The Ties that Bind
by twilightsgrace23
Summary: After a bitter divorce, Bella moves back to Forks to put the pieces of her life back together, find love again and get over something that's been haunting her for the last ten years.
1. On Your Own Again

The Ties That Bind

Chapter One – "On Your Own Again"

Bella

**A/N Stephenie Meyers owns the Twilight characters, but the plot is all mine...**

-000-

The judge banged his gavel; it gave a final, resounding echo off the oak paneled courtroom walls. I stared down at the table, expertly avoiding the smug grin of my now ex-husband. Shock radiated off me like the energy wave from a nuclear explosion.

_I can't believe the judge ruled in his favor,_ I thought.

Wait, who was I kidding, of course the he did. The damned judge was probably a close friend of the family – some golf buddy or country club brother.

My lawyer, some wet behind the ears doe faced blonde fresh out of law school places her icy hand on my bare forearm. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, her lavender eyes swimming behind a veil of tears. "I really thought we had a chance."

I fight to keep my own tears at bay. So did I, I thought. "Don't worry about it," I told her. "I kind of figured we didn't have a snow ball's chance in hell of winning. At least not when the judge is your new B.F.F." I nod toward the front of the courtroom where Edward is standing, his head down, lips moving at the judge's ear.

Lauren, my lawyer, growled under breath. "Give me twenty four hours," she says, "I can file a motion, and we'll-"

I hold up my hand effectively silencing her tirade. "It's not worth it." I'm_ not worth it,_ I think as the tears threaten to spill again. "Thank you for all your help." I grab my bag and hurry out of the courtroom not bothering to look back.

He was the past now, no matter how much it hurt and there were a million new things I had to worry about now. Like picking Callahan up from the sitters and figuring out where we were going to live, how I was going to pay for it, and oh, I had to find a job too. In this economy. That's kind of like, well…if I'm being frank, fucking impossible.

Tears well up all over again and furiously rub them away as I hurry toward the bright red Volvo parked along the curb. I groan as I notice the parking ticket tucked under the windshield wiper, fluttering in the breeze. Reaching the car I ripped the offending ticket out from under the wiper blade and stared at it, the tears that had been threatening to spill all morning finally breaking free. They streamed down my face leaving twin black rivers of mascara and eyeliner in their wake.

"No," I said aloud. "I am not going to cry; crying doesn't solve a damn thing." I crumble the ticket and shove it into my purse. The car was in Edward's name, let the great state of California arrest him for an unpaid parking ticket. The bastard owed me at least that much.

I fish my keys out of my purse and slide behind the wheel of the one thing I'd been permitted to keep- the cherry red convertible Volvo C70. The engine purred to life as I pulled away from the curb. The CD in the player hummed and Saving Abel poured softly out of the speakers. I jabbed the radio dial trying to get away from the song because, contrary to its lyrics, I didn't feel alive.

Really though, they just hit to close to my freshly wounded heart. The track quickly changed, feeling bitter about waking up alone gave way to a peppy Katy Perry song. I sighed in relief and headed toward the sitter's house, mentally preparing myself for Callie's attitude about even having to go to the sitter in the first place.

She fought me tooth and nail this morning until I finally snapped and screamed for her to quit being a pain in the ass and just get the hell in the car. She flipped her long brunette hair over her shoulder and snidely remarked, "That's why daddy's divorcing you," as slid into the passenger seat. As the door shut I would have sworn she muttered, "Because you're a bitch," but I might have just imagined it.

I signaled and turned into Mary Alice's subdivision, waving to the security guard who waved me through. Mary Alice was a friend of Edward's – well her husband was at least – and we were friendly, but I wouldn't call her a friend. Well maybe just a little, she did agree to watch Callie while I was in court this morning.

As I pull into her driveway, I can hear the kids, Callie as well as her three kids, Alex, Jane, and Marcus, in the back yard. When I knock on the door, Mary Alice opens it and smiles up at me. "Hey," she chirps in a voice that sounds like tinkling bells. "I was just telling Callie you should be here soon. How was court?"

I stood in the foyer for a second trying to find the perfect description for just how imperfect court was this morning. Finally, I said, "It didn't go well."

Mary Alice frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks," I reply, wringing my hands together. I don't like the way her sympathy feels, it's like I went mucking around in the sewer all night and am now standing in her foyer dripping the filth on her pristinely polished floor.

"I'll, um, go get Callahan," she says and then scurries off toward the backyard. A door off the kitchen opens and the sounds of outside filter into the large house – a lawnmower, birds chirping, a dog barking just up the block. The door shuts again and the tell tale sound of Callie's flip-flops comes toward me. My ten-year-old daughter rounds the corner with such a look of discernment on her face I know what I have to tell her will not be pleasant. I roll my shoulders back and smile at her.

"Hi sweetheart," I say cheerfully. "Did you have fun?"

Callie looks from me to Mary Alice then back to me. "Yeah. Can we go now?"

I nod at her then say, "Thanks, I appreciate you watching her," to Mary Alice.

"No problem," she says as she ushers us to the front door. "See you later."

_No, probably not,_ I think to myself. Aloud I say, "Sure thing. Have a good weekend."

Callie has gotten into the car, buckled her seat belt, and is now sitting there with her bird-like arms crossed over her chest protectively. I force the frown off my face and get into the car, starting it wordlessly.

She and I are silent the entire way home. Then the inevitable happens in a completely earth shattering way. As I pull into our driveway, the bumper of the Volvo comes stunningly close to kissing the ass of a battered yellow moving van. Callie's eyes go wide as she takes in the van, the moving men, and the plethora of boxes loaded into the back of the van.

"You're kicking him out?" she breathes, eyes wide as saucers.

I sit there helplessly, unable to tell her that it is we, who are in fact, being kicked out. Up at the house, the front door opens and Edward walks out, his chest swollen with the cocky arrogance of a man-child who got his way. Callie pushes open the door and runs to him crying, "Daddy!" as her hair trails out behind her in a shimmering flag of brunette curls.

I watch as this stranger hugs my daughter then looks at me, his glace beckoning me wordlessly. I get out of the car, the urge to run away and fight swirling in my stomach, each one battling to be the more dominant emotion. "Edward what's going on here?" I ask, motioning the moving van.

"They're packing yours and Callahan's things. They'll take you where ever you wish to go."

At this, Callie's arms fall down to her sides and she glances up at Edward. "I don't understand," she says, perfectly echoing my thoughts.

"We're being kicked out," I say without emotion. "Your father has decided he no longer wants us and has so kindly packed our things and put us out, and the greatest part is that he doesn't care that we don't have anywhere else to go. Isn't that so nice of him?" The sarcasm drips off my voice like honey. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it would be better in the long run, if she saw him as the bad guy who kicked us out, who didn't want us anymore.

Callie looks up at Edward. "Daddy is that true? You're kicking me and Mom out?"

Edward stares at me, his eyes shooting daggers across the space between us. I had the ridiculous urge to stick my tongue out at him however, I refrained.

"Yes Callie," I supplied. "It's true."

Callie backed away from Edward and into me. I wrap my arms around her protectively. "Why don't you go wait in the car," I say softly. She nods and shuffles toward the car without another word. Once the door is safely shut, I focus my attention on Edward.

"How could you do this to me, to her, to us? Where are we supposed to go Edward? Huh, where?"

He stood before me, a heartless statue with ridiculously styled leprechaun hair and eyes as green as the Emerald Isle itself, staring down his artisan nose at me. "That's not really my problem now is it? Nevertheless, if you're really that worried, your father left you that dump he called a house. It's all yours." He practically threw the deed and a set of keys at me.

My heart starts to race as I unfold the deed. Images of the past flash before my eyes, scenes from that night and all the subsequent days afterward wash over me. I fought the urge to vomit in the driveway. "Edward you know I…why I…" my voice trailed off. I don't know what I expected from him. Sympathy, compassion, care or understanding, I have no idea, but if there was one person who knew about the past and what happened, it was him and he should know why I couldn't go back to Forks.

Then a realization washed over me. Charlie passed away five almost six years ago. Who has been paying the property tax and homeowner's insurance on the house all this time?

Thoughts met voice and I said, "Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Fingers, under their own accord, smoothed the deed. Eyes raked over the legalese picking out the plain English cryptically contained within: The house in the very tiny town of Forks, Washington was legally mine.

"You didn't need to know," he said coldly. "Now you have a place to go." And with that, he turned and walked away.

The two movers, who'd stood motionless as they gobbled up the confrontation, scrambled to look as if they hadn't been eavesdropping. I folded the deed back up and slid it into my purse. The taller, burlier of the two made his way over to where I was standing.

"Miss?" he said awkwardly clearing his throat.

I glanced up quizzically.

"We're all finished. I just need to know where we're headed."

I glance up at the sky, inhaling a lungful of the smoggy Los Angeles summer air. As I exhale, I look at the mover, Emmett his nametag read. "Forks," I said. "We're going to Forks, Washington."

**-000-**

Two days later, the red Volvo crossed the city limits and into Forks. As I drove into town, the same weathered sign greeted me, _Welcome to Forks_, it proclaimed just as it always had. The same weathered old men still sat in front of the barbershop, smoking cigars and talking about the "good old days."

I was surprised to see how much nothing changed in the ten years that had passed since I'd last been here. I wasn't expecting mini malls and Wal-Mart's on every corner, but something aside from what was, always had been, and probably always would be.

The trip through downtown took five minutes and before I knew it, I was turning onto the street that I'd grown up on. Callie glanced out the window miserably as the windshield wipers beat a steady tattoo on the windshield.

"Why couldn't we stay in L.A.?" she whined for the millionth time since leaving the city.

"Because," I said. "We didn't have a place to live."

"So we're moving into some stinky old house nobody's lived in for like forever and where your dad died." She paused, working her gum over her tongue and blowing a huge, cotton candy scented bubble. She held it for a second then popped it. "That's just great."

The house was in better shape than I had hoped for. The lawn was neatly mown, the hedges, while needing trimming, were still relatively tame. The driveway was cracked and crumbling and there was a thick cluster of ivy winding its way up the side of the house, creeping toward the second story windows.

The little brick house was quaint in a "welcome to your new life here in rainy old Forks kind of way." However, beggars couldn't be choosers and a house in Forks was better than no house at all.

At least until people started to recognize me and start whispering about me again.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind as I made my way up the front walk, tripping slightly over the cracked sidewalk. The storm door squeaked loudly as I opened it, the hinges protesting, much like Dorothy's tin man, in their shrill cry for oil. The key slid into the deadbolt, which gave way effortlessly. The wooden door swung open, the living room stretched out before me, still full of furniture, all of which was hidden by moth eaten cloths. The air in the house was stale and thick with dust.

Behind me, Callie walked into the house looking around. "Where's our stuff?" she asked as she looked at the photos of me nailed to the wall.

"In the garage," I reply. "We have a lot of work to do. This whole place needs to be cleaned and we have to go through all of your grandfathers things and get rid of whatever we don't want."

"Great," Callie muttered sarcastically. "Where's my room?"

I motion for her to follow me up the stairs and I take them two at a time. There are two rooms upstairs, one used to be mine and one used to be Charlie's.

The doors stand open, waiting for the return of human inhabitants. Callie pushes around me, her sandals slapping the floor as she heads into my childhood room. "What is all this crap?" she asks and I cringe.

She might only be ten, well almost ten now, but the definite pre-teen attitude was starting to rear its ugly head.

"That's my crap, and it's not crap," I snap and walk into my old room. It was like walking out of the present and right into the past. Faded photos hung on the walls, the same ones I'd tacked there all those years ago. Posters whose edges had curled were still hanging on the wall, Third Eye Blind, Eve 6, Sugar Ray. I rolled my eyes at Mark McGrath, amazed that nothing in my room had changed since I left ten years ago.

I walked further into the pale blue room, crossing the scarred wooden floor to the windows overlooking the front yard. I lifted the curtain and peered out of the dirty window. Across the street a little girl with golden pigtails and a pink and white polka dot bathing suit was chasing a little boy through a sprinkler, their happy shrieking filling the air as the cold water sprayed them.

In the house next door, a squad car pulled up and a ridiculously tall man climbed out. He glanced at the Volvo in the driveway, blatantly staring as he strode toward his house. He whipped off his sunglasses and tucked them into the front pocket of his uniform shirt. I snorted softly. He looked like an Eric Estrada wanna-be with the cop uniform and the clichéd cop-style sunglasses.

I leaned toward the window to get a closer look at the local law enforcement official living next door. He glanced up at the second story window and gave me a brief nod. I jumped back, feeling sheepish for spying on the neighbors.

Behind me, Callie laughed. I turned to see what she was laughing at. "Wow look at your hair," she said pointing to a picture of me as a little girl rocking a ponytail on the side of my head.

"Yeah," I said, "that was an ugly time for fashion."

"Mhmm," she agreed. "Can I have this room?"

"Yes," I said. "We'll get all the posters and pictures down and you can redecorate however you want."

"Cool, thanks mom."

I left Callie in her room by herself and head downstairs to make sure that our things were indeed in the garage like the moving man said they were.

I bent over and grabbed the handle, giving it a good tug. It made a groaning sound and refused to budge. I yanked it again to no avail. The garage door was stuck and refused to open it no matter how hard I tugged. "Come on," I muttered, straining to get it to go up.

"There's a special way you have to do it," a deep baritone rumbled from behind me.

I straighten up and turn, glancing at the handsome stranger standing behind me. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you have to do it like this." He walked up, grabbed the handle, and gave it a firm jerk. The catch released and the door rumbled, rising slightly.

"Wow, impressive, thanks."

"Not a problem. Did you just buy the old place?" He nods toward the house then shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Um, no. actually I just inherited it."

"You're Charlie's daughter?"

I swallow hard and nod. "Yes."

The handsome man smiled. "The mysterious daughter returned from California. Well, welcome home."

"Thanks."

He turns and heads back down the driveway. "Oh, I'm Jacob by the way. Well, only my mother calls me Jacob, everybody else calls me Jake."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Bella."

"Take it easy Bella," he grins at me. "And don't be too rough on the garage door. See you around."

I raise my hand in an effort to wave goodbye, but I am stunned. He was seven kinds of sexy in the uniform, but deputy delicious is definitely just as, if not, more attractive in a pair of blue jeans and a tee shirt. I can see the ripples of muscles through the thin cotton material, my eyes appreciatively taking in his physique.

Maybe being back home after all this time wouldn't be such a bad thing. After all, people only remember what they want to remember. As long as I didn't go causing a scene and making trouble for myself, no one would go out of their way to remember what happened all those years ago.

Deputy Delicious leaned over, retrieving the mail from his shiny silver box. His jeans taunt across his backside made me shiver as I watched him reach for the mail.

"Mom?" came an interrupting voice. "Mom?"

Finally, I look away. "What?" I ask looking down at Callie.

"Where's my stuff? I want to start setting up my room."

I point into the dark garage. "It's all in there. If you wait, I'll give you a hand carrying it all in."

Callie nods and says, "Sure mom, I'd like that."

"Good. Come on kiddo." I take her hand in mine, relishing the way her not so small fingers wrap around mine. I take advantage of this moment because soon she won't let me anymore. "I think you're going to like it here."

Callie doesn't answer. I know what she's thinking – that it's not going to be likely and that she's pretty pissed about leaving L.A. but she's going to try because she wasn't the only one who got abandoned. We were both shoved aside and in that fact, we were united.

**-000-**

"On Your Own" by Green River Ordinance (chapter title)

"The Ties That Bind" by Bruce Springsteen (story title)

To those who were reading The Monster's Dolls...I always said I would never start a story and just stop. I broke my own rule with that one, but I have come to the realization that I am Nora Roberts, not J.D. Robb...perhaps in the future I can try to continue with it but as of right now it won't happen...I took it down because I hated writing it, it wasn't fun and it would have come across that way in the chapters...to make up for a cop Jake we have Jake the cop aka deputy delicious here...I hope everyone likes the idea and continues to read...and if not, well thanks for your time!

nikki


	2. Don't Wake Me

The Ties that Bind

Chapter Two – "Don't Wake Me"

Bella

A/N Stephenie Meyer owns Jake (boo) and Bella.

As dusk descended upon the city I found it hard to keep the demons at bay. Past and present swirled together pressing down on my heart. I sought refuge in the kitchen baking. Soon, the smell of chocolate brownies was wafting through the living room. It smelled so good that it roused Callie out of the tub and down into the kitchen where she sat down at the table, flopping a _Diary of a Wimpy Kid_ book face down on the table. She propped her boney elbows up and distractedly picked at the sparkly fingernail polish on her stubby fingernails.

"What smells?" she finally asked after a moment of nail picking silence.

I leaned across the counter and turned the radio down. Nothing like double chocolate brownies and Bruce Springsteen to heal a broken heart. "I'm making brownies," I told her, stating the obvious.

"Duh," Callie replied. "I can smell that much."

The parent in me thought about chastising her for the way she'd been speaking to me today. However, she was entitled to a little teenage angst; she had been through just as much as I had these last few days.

"They're special brownies," I tell her. "My mom used to make them for me when I was upset. She always used to say that they'd chase the rain from the sky they were so good. I figured after the last couple of days, we could use a pick me up." It wasn't exactly the truth, but she didn't need to know that.

Callie nodded wordlessly before picking up her book. She stared at the pages, flipping them every few seconds. I knew she wasn't really reading but I didn't say anything. Something was weighing on her mind and if I just gave her some time, she'd open up.

"Why did you and daddy get divorced?" she finally asked.

_Good question_, I thought, wondering why exactly did we get divorced. I knew Edward wasn't happy, it didn't take a fool to see it, but I didn't know why he was unhappy. He never said and I never asked.

To Callie I said, "Sometimes people stop loving each other."

"Why? I thought love was supposed to be the greatest super power in the world. All those stupid cards say stuff like love is the greatest gift and that love can move mountains, stuff like that. How can love move mountains if it's so easy to just stop loving somebody."

I smiled at her, my beautifully smart daughter. "Because," I said, "it's easy to stop loving someone when you never really loved them in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

I shrug. "Just what I said. Maybe it was so easy for daddy to stop loving me because he never really loved me; I mean the kind of love that moves mountains loved me. Maybe he just liked me an awful lot. Think of it this way, do you really love that Justin Bieber kid, or do you think you just really like him a lot?"

Callie tilted her head to the side. I saw her contemplate her obsession with the baby-faced singer, battling it back and forth in her mind.

"Okay," I said. "Look at it this way. If Justin Bieber and Nick Jonas walked into the kitchen right now and asked you to go to the movies with them, but you could only choose one, who would you pick?"

Callie's face flushed red. If Nick Jonas and Justin Bieber walked into the kitchen right now, she would probably die and go to teen girl heaven. She giggled, pondering the scenario. Finally, Callie said, "You're right. I don't love Justin Bieber, but I like him a lot. He's cute. So is Nick Jonas. So what you're saying is Daddy didn't love you like you loved him, and that's why he wanted to divorce you?"

I nodded. "I suppose so. I love your dad, but if he's going to be happier without me, well, there's really nothing I can do about it."

"Why not?"

"Because when you love something you have to let it go. If it comes back to you then maybe it's meant to be, or maybe you just didn't learn the lesson the first time around."

"It's confusing being a grown up. I mean, how hard is it? Either you like someone or you don't. Like, I don't like cats, but I like dogs. So I won't get a cat, but I would get a dog instead. Then I would love the dog until it died, even if it did stuff wrong I would still love it. Daddy should have done the same thing. He should have loved you forever."

I gave her a half shrug, it was an indistinct gesture, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. Over the stove, the timer dinged. I pulled on oven mitts and reached into the oven, retrieving the pan of perfectly baked brownies, which I set on the stove to cool.

Callie had picked up her book and was actually reading it this time so I let her be and set about cleaning up the kitchen, humming along to the radio. The song tugged at my heart; I listened to the words as I washed the bowl I'd used to mix the brownies in. He sang about a girl he met in Long Beach, California and how they sat on the beach making plans, and sat on a pier as he told her everything and wiped her tears.

Then an earthquake made his heart break, it was too late and now it's all gone.

I wondered if the songwriter had been following me around for the last ten years because it sounded like the song was written about our – me and Edward's– relationship. I had half a mind to get back in the car, drive back to California, and make him see that we were supposed to be together. He helped me through so much and I still loved him, and I missed him. How was I supposed to just stop loving him? That was like asking the sunset not to be beautiful. It was just impossible.

I set the sponge down and took a deep breath. I felt my heart breaking into a hundred million pieces. It hurt so bad I couldn't fathom how deep it would hurt. My whole life was just one long series of men not wanting me. Boys in high school, the incident after spring break, now Edward. Maybe I was just destined to be alone.

"Mom, are you alright?" Callie asked behind me. I heard the _Diary of a Wimpy Kid_ book hit the table and the chair slide across the worn wooden floor.

"I'm fine Callie," I replied. "Why don't you get out the milk and I'll cut up the brownies and we'll have a snack before bed."

"Okay. Can I watch TV in bed for a little while? Please?"

I nodded without looking at her and took a deep breath. _Just keep it together until she goes to bed then you can sit in the tub, run the water, and cry your eyeballs out in peace,_ I tell myself.

I cut Callie a small square of brownie and set it on a napkin in front of her. "Here Munchkin."

"Thanks mom," she said picking up the book again.

I sat down across the scarred table from her and picked at my own square of brownie, tearing it into little pieces counting down the minutes until I could seek refuge in my solitude. The first night – the night we left Los Angeles, Callie and I stayed in a hotel and I had cried silent tears the entire night. It wasn't enough, I need to sob and rage and let it all out. Once it was all out of my system, I could get back to the rest of my life.

Across the table, Callie finished the rest of her brownie with a yawn. "I'm going to bed," she announced folding over the page she'd been reading.

I glanced up and said, "Only one hour of TV and then it goes off. Got it?"

My daughter nodded and shuffled out of the kitchen. As her footsteps faded toward the top of the stairs, I stood up and swept the brownie mess off the table and into the palm of my hand then crossed to the other side of the table and cleaned up Callie's mess.

Upstairs the TV clicked on and the canned laughter of _Sonny with a Chance_ echoed down the stairs and into the kitchen. I felt like the laugh track on the show, fake and forced to pretend to be happy or bubbly. I thought about what I told Callie earlier tonight, about Edward never really loving me.

Maybe he did love once upon a time, but it was so long ago. Where did that love go? I wonder. Did it dry up or evaporate, disappear into the aether, never to be seen or heard from again? I had no idea. I just know that one day everything was fine and then it wasn't. I can't even pinpoint the day it stopped being fine or the reason why.

I was so confused and hurt that I wanted to scream until the world was right again, not that it really ever had been, but for a little while, it was. For a few short years, I was the normal girl with the baby and the husband. There were no breathy whispers or pointed stares. There was no one proclaiming what I did or didn't do, no speculating whether or not I was a liar or a slut or a tease who asked for it and then when I got it, got scared and claimed otherwise.

The only person I ever lied to was Charlie. Right after graduation I left for San Francisco and after that, it was just easier to lie and tell him that I couldn't come home for a visit was because I had classes or I had to practice or that I had a concert. He was so proud of me; he said it all the time. I felt like a fraud for lying to him, but again, it was easier to lie and say I was attending the San Francisco Conservatory of Music than to tell him the truth – that I was 18 and pregnant and had run away to San Francisco because a gay couple there wanted to adopt my baby.

He had no idea he had a granddaughter, again I felt like crap for not ever telling him, but if I had then he would have known about what happened and I couldn't live with that. Beside me, there were only three other people who knew about that night: Edward, God, and Mike Newton and two out of the three weren't talking about it.

Once the kitchen was returned to its orderly state, I wearily climbed the stairs wondering if I even had enough energy for a good cry. As it turns out, I did. I sat on the floor of the shower sobbing uncontrollably until the hot water ran out and the icy spray shook me out of my stupor. The tears didn't stop there however. Once I turned Callie's television off and tucked my own self into Charlie's old bed, the tears returned.

That night was the first of many that I cried myself to sleep. I walked through each day, a zombie who was only going through the motions – laugh, smile, talk, and cook, clean, unpack, sort, separate, de-clutter, repaint, and begin again.

The summer passed in its lazy fashion and before I knew it, the leaves on the trees went from a lovely shade of green to a fiery red, the air grew chilly, and the sun would dip over the horizon earlier and earlier each evening.

Callie started fourth grade and quickly made friends. I however, remained sort of…well, stuck. Over the summer, I took a job working at the police station, answering phones and doing light clerical work. It wasn't much but it paid the bills and for that, I was grateful.

On the morning of my birthday, I awoke the familiar sound of raindrops splattering against the bedroom windows. By now, the sound was familiar and I dozed off again. A few minutes later the bedroom door squeaked open and Callie poked her head in.

"Mom?" she called softly. "Are you awake yet?"

The scent of black coffee preceded her entry into the room. I opened one eye lazily and glanced at her. "I'm awake, buttercup. Whatcha got over there?"

Callie came into the room and set the tray she was struggling to carry on the edge of the bed. "I made you breakfast in bed 'cause it's your birthday."

I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face and sat up, leaning against the heavy wooden headboard. "Wow," I said eyeing the feast my daughter prepared. "That looks great. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she chirped. "Are we going to go out for dinner tonight?"

I shrugged as I pulled the tray closer toward me. "I guess so, why do you want to go out?"

Callie nodded enthusiastically. "I do. Can we go to Port Angeles, to Rigatoni's?"

"Yeah, sure. Now go finished getting ready for school." I steal a glance at the alarm clock. "The bus will be here soon."

Callie leapt off the bed and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. I picked up the cup of coffee sloshing around on the tray and sipped the bitter liquid. With my free hand, I picked up the card threatening to fall off the tray and onto the floor.

_Happy Birthday_ was scrawled across the front in neon pink crayon. Beneath it was a picture of a three-tiered cake with a lot of glowing candles. I opened it and read the brief note inside. _Happy Birthday Mom, I love you! Love, your daughter, Callahan Sophia Cullen._

I refolded the paper and laid it beside the plate of toast then slid out of bed. Seeing her name signed like that in the card reminded me that we still needed to talk about that. I had debated changing my last name back to Swan, but ultimately decided against it because Callie's last name would still be Cullen. She wasn't even a Cullen, well not by blood at least. Edward adopted her when she was two. Of course she didn't remember this, and at the moment I was not planning on telling her either. I figured I'd casually mention changing my name and see if she wanted to change hers as well.

Outside the bus squeaked to a stop and the driver blew the horn twice. "Callie," I called. "Bus."

"I know," she yelled, sneaking pounding down the hallway. I hurried toward her room to make sure she had everything she needed then rushed her down the stairs and out the front door where I stood until she had gotten on the bus and the hulking yellow vehicle groaned down the street.

Next door, Jake was carrying a lunch box to his car. "Morning," he shouted with a grin.

"Morning," I replied, stooping to pick up the newspaper.

"See you at the office," he called as he got into the squad car.

I gave a wave and went back into the house dropping the newspaper onto the table inside the foyer and then heading upstairs to shower and dress for work.

In my room, I clicked on the radio and hummed along to the song as I grabbed a towel and entered the bathroom. I was twenty-nine years old today. Christ I was getting old. I laughed a bit to myself at the thought. Twenty-nine wasn't old. Hell, that magazine I saw in the grocery store the other day was saying that forty is the new twenty. I didn't necessarily buy that, but whatever. By the time I was forty I'd have a twenty-one-year-old daughter. _That_ made me feel old, but I pushed it aside, shut off the shower water, and stepped out of the tub wrapping the towel around me.

The phone rang as I padded toward the bedroom. I thought about hurrying to answer it, but decided not to. Whoever it was could leave a message, not likely they would, but they could if they were so inclined.

The phone stopped ringing and just as I suspected the caller declined my cheery offer to leave a message. I bypassed the phone and headed toward the closet, standing in front of it for a good twenty minutes trying to decide what I wanted to wear. I felt like I should dress up a bit, but didn't want to show up at the station looking too pretty, it would raise unwanted questions and I didn't want to deal with the deputy's picking on my all day. So I pulled out a pair of black slacks, a blue cardigan, and an off-white tank top and dressed quickly.

When I was ready, I grabbed my coat of the back of the bedroom door and hurried down the stairs, flicking the thermostat as I passed by. Once more, the phone rang. I growled, "I do not have time for this," and picked it up. "Hello?" I said into the cool receiver.

Crackly silence answered me. "Hello?" I said again. Still nothing so I replaced the phone back onto the cradle and grabbed my car keys. Damn bill collectors, I thought to myself as I hurried out the front door. Even with an unpublished number, they still manage to find you.

**-000-**

I do plan on continuing with this story and have the next couple of chapters already written. And yes, yay for the return of uniformed Jake...he is one sexy dude *wink wink*

Songs from the chapter:

**Long Beach by Sons of Sylvia**

**Don't Wake Me by Skillet**

Someone asked me for a list of the songs from each story, unfortunately I can't email you because I can't click your sn...so Nox if you're out there, there's a list on my blog of all the songs that inspired each story (www (dot) fallofthefairytale (dot) blogspot (dot) com


	3. Keep it There

A/N S. Meyer owns all the cool stuff here...me...well...I wish I owned Deputy Delicious...lol

The Ties that Bind

Chapter 3

Bella

-000-

The same stack of files was waiting for me this morning just like they had been every other morning over the last four months. On the other hand, a vase of happy sunflowers was a new and welcome addition. I smiled as I sat down and dragged the vase toward me, pressing my nose into the perfectly round, brown centers.

I inhaled the sunflowers sweet, summery scent and briefly wondered why they always reminded me of fall when they smelled so deliciously of summer. Catching my attention back where the vase had been was a flat, cream-colored envelope. I picked it up and slid my index finger under the flap, opening it. The paper tore away from the adhesive in a jagged line and the card was released. I pulled it out and looked down at it, half expecting some kind of naked cop with a whipped cream bikini and a night stick grinning mischievously up at me. However, it was a simply card with brown and blue stripes that read Happy Birthday across the front in a cursive font.

I opened it and read all the little birthday wishes everyone scrawled inside. I slid the vase back and set the card down next to it. As I did so, I wondered if Renee would call today. Probably not, I decided. And if she did, she wouldn't know I was in Forks. If she even remembered it was my birthday at all.

Renee was, well, she was Renée. Absentminded and immature by default, she walked out on Charlie and me when I was just a toddler, claiming she wasn't cut out for the role of wife and mother, that she was destined to do great things.

Great things turned out to be great sex with some British fashion designer. Or something like that. Last I heard she was living in Paris with some indie film director.

It never really bothered me that she left. Charlie was a good enough father to fill the void not having a mother should have left. As for Charlie, well if it bothered him, he never showed it.

Bringing me back to the present was the ever-ringing phone. I shook off my la-la land stupor and reached for the receiver. "Forks P.D," I said.

"Good morning, this is Embry Call from the ranger station up at the national park, is the chief around?"

"Please hold." I spun around in my chair and peered down the short hallway toward Jake's office. The door was open and he was seated behind his desk furiously clicking away at his mouse. "Hey Jake," I called. "Ranger station's on line one."

He jumped and looked at me with an easygoing grin. "Damn game," he laughed. "Kicks my ass every time. Go ahead and put him through."

I transferred the call and turned back around, eyeballing the stack of files on the desk and picked up the first one.

By lunch, I'd made a fairly large dent in the mountain of paperwork. Closing the last file, I pushed my chair back and retrieved my purse out of the bottom drawer of my desk. My stomach growled loudly, crying for food after having eaten like a mouse for breakfast. As I stood, I bumped into Jake who was headed toward my desk. "Sorry," I said with a sheepish smile. "I didn't hear you coming."

"It's okay," he replied. "I'm in stealth mode today."

"Like a ninja?" I joked.

"Nah, more like a polar bear."

I frowned at him, not understanding if he was kidding or serious. "A polar bear?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah, a polar bear."

He stared at me, waiting for me to get it. Finally, I said, "I don't understand."

"Grab a bit to eat with me and I'll explain it," he said casually.

_Oh, so slick_, I thought. "Okay," I agreed. "Oh and thanks for the card."

"You liked it?" he asked.

"Yes, it was nice. So are the flowers."

"Glad you liked them. So do you have any plans for tonight?"

We walked out the front door of the station and headed down the block toward the diner that sat at the opposite end of the street. "Callie and I are going to Port Angeles for dinner."

"Sounds fun. Is Paul going with you?"

"Why?" I asked. In my head I thought, keep fishing nosy.

"Just wondering," he replied innocently.

Over the last few months, Jake and I had fallen into this easy friendship. It was clearly obvious that we wanted more from each other, but somehow we were never able to take that next step. Then I started seeing Paul, a teacher at the school on the reservation in La Push, and the next step between Jake and me, well...it was what it was, I supposed.

"He said he would try to make it, but there's some kind of sports thing he volunteered to help with, so who knows."

"Oh. Well, I hope you enjoy your dinner anyway."

"Thanks," I said. We walked in easy silence the rest of the way to the diner. I don't know what it was about him, but being with Jake was the easiest thing in the world. As effortless as breathing or blinking, part of me wished he would just take that step, exert himself, and claim me for his own.

But, he didn't.

I was kind of glad that he didn't. Things were easy the way they were. Paul didn't ask questions about me or my past or why I left Forks in such a hurry after graduation, why I never came back or visited –all things Jake asked about on a regular basis.

All things I wasn't ready to talk about yet. I knew that if I stayed in Forks eventually someone would remember that spring and start talking about it, or I would run into someone who was part of what Edward used to call "the incident." In a town as small as Forks, it was just a matter of time. It was a miracle that it hadn't happened already.

As we walked into the diner, the scent of clam chowder and freshly baked bread hit me, making my stomach growl loudly. Jake laughed as we walked toward an empty booth near the back wall of the diner. Radios on each table cast yellowish glows on the black and white speckled Formica tabletops. Jake slid into the red booth and I slid behind the table opposite of him. The interior of the diner was cheery against the overcast afternoon.

"Looks like rain," Jake said following my gaze out the large plate glass window next to the table. "By the way, how's that window holding up?"

"Oh, it's good. Thanks again for recommending those guys, they did a great job."

A few weeks ago, a severe storm knocked a large branch off a hemlock tree outside of Callie's window. The branch crashed through the window and into Callie's bed. Thankfully, she was at a sleep over that night. Jake cut up the branch and boarded up the window, giving me the number to a couple of handymen who would fix it cheaply.

When our waitress arrived, we gave our orders. Jake sipped his water as she walked away. After a long swallow he asked, "Where in Port Angeles are you going for dinner?"

"Callie wants to go to Rigatoni's, so I guess that's where we're going."

"You don't sound like you really want to go anywhere," he said.

"I don't," I said with a shrug. "I'd rather stay home and watch some old black and white movie or some steamy romance flick."

"Like what?"

I shrugged and thought about digging through my purse for a quarter to play some music on the jukebox stationed at the far end of the table. "Something about Paris," I offered. "Maybe that Brando flick, _Last Tango in Paris_."

Jake choked on his water, his face turning deep red. "I'd say that's about as steamy as they come."

I shot him a coy smile. "You could say that. It's a really good movie though."

"I've never seen it," he admitted.

"You should come over and watch it with me sometime." I grinned and reached into my purse for some change. Over the line, yes, but did I care? No. I found a quarter and scooted toward the jukebox leaving Jake to think about my proposition while I searched through the playlist.

Charlie and I used to come here all the time and when we did, he always played James Taylor's_ How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)._ He was a huge James Taylor fan, always played his music morning, noon and night. It drove me crazy for the first 17 years of my life. Then when I moved to California, I missed hearing the songs. One afternoon right before Callie was born I was in the grocery store and _Don't Let Me Be Lonely_ _Tonight_ came on and immediately made me feel guilty.

As I sat here now, the flirty feeling dissipated, and I felt terrible for not being a better daughter, hell for not being a better person. Charlie was my father, if anyone would have understood what happened it would have been him. He might have been able to help: help me, help Callie, help the other girls.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I dropped the quarter on the table and immediately tried to stop the flow of sadness pouring out of my tear ducts. Startled, Jake looked up, his eyes wide. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry," I sobbed reaching for my napkin. "I was just; it's just; overwhelming. Charlie and I used to come here all the time and he's gone and I never-" my voice broke as I sobbed into my napkin. "I'll be right back," I bawled, sliding out of the booth and hurrying blindly toward the bathroom leaving a dumbfounded Jake sitting at the table as the diners patrons stared at him.

Hands met wood and pushed the door open. I slipped into the dimly lit bathroom, the door slamming loudly behind me. I went to the sink, leaning on it, peering at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror. _Get a grip_, I told myself. Stop blubbering like a heartbroken teenage girl. Turning on the water, I let it run warm before splashing a handful on my face. There was a soft knock at the door.

"Bella?" Jake called through the door. "Are you alright?"

I dried my face before answering his call. "I'm fine, I'll be right out."

"I'm coming in," he said.

"No, Jake, you don't have to," I protested. "I'm coming out right now." I tossed the wadded up paper towels into the trash and pulled open the bathroom door. "All better," I said with a false smile. "Let's go eat."

"What happened?" he asked guiding me back to the table.

"Just…nostalgia. Me and Charlie came here all the time for dinner. It's just sad being back without him. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Its okay," Jake said as I slid back into our booth. "I was just worried about you. It never gets easier does it?"

"No, not really." I picked up my spoon and absentmindedly stirred my soup. "It's my own fault thought. A lot of stuff happened and I never gave him the benefit of the doubt."

"What do you mean?"

_Ah shit_, I thought_. I almost let the cat out of the bag._ "There was just a lot of stuff that happened before I left for college. It was too hard to come back here after living through it."

That much was true. After the incident, I heard that one of the girls, one that happened after me, came forward and Charlie looked into the allegations, but nothing could ever be proved. Especially when the others refused to file a report, so the bastard got away with it. Part of me wanted to take Jake into the parking lot and tell him everything. I had been carrying it around for too long and it was just too heavy. But if I did, if I told him what happened, I knew how he would look at me, I knew his eyes would be full of shock and disgust and pity. And disbelief. The one person I told, who'd witnessed it, didn't believe my version of the story, why would anyone else.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jake said. "If it's any consolation, I think he regretted not seeing you again. He talked about you all the time."

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you, why you really left Forks?"

I stared into his hazel eyes, torn. "I can't."

"Yes you can. We can leave here right now, go wherever you want and you can tell me all about it."

"It's not that kind of story," I say bitterly. "We aren't going to go back to my house, pop some popcorn and have a best friend get together where we tell each other all our dirty little secrets."

Jake's jaw dropped as if I'd slapped him. "Bella, that's not what I meant."

"I know that. It's just something that happened half a life time ago, and no one believed me then so what difference is it going to make if I talk about it now?"

"Um, I'm not a shrink, but obviously it still bothers you. You clam up whenever anyone looks at you too closely, you avoid all talk of Charlie and the past, especially if it's someone you know from back then. What gives?"

"Its none of your business," I spat at him. "Quit sitting there acting like-"

"Like what?"

"Like you're my damn husband or something. You're my boss and my neighbor. Neither of those things put me under any kind of, of…shit, they don't bind me to you. I don't have to talk about personal, private things with you. Jesus Christ."

"I doubt He'll help you," Jake muttered.

"Shut up," I retorted. "Why the hell are you so damned nosy anyway?"

"Um, cop, remember?" He jabbed his thumb toward the shiny badge pinned to his chest. "I can't help it, it's in my nature."

"No excuse," I grumble. "You need to keep your nose on your face where it belongs and not in my business."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just worry about you. Contrary to what you believe, I consider you a friend. I don't want to see you hurting."

Something crossed his face just then, a pang of something sad and lonely. I reached across the table and clasped his hands in mine. "I'm not hurting. What happened, happened so long ago that it's just a glimmer of a memory. It doesn't even matter. The only thing that concerns me is the people with the long memories bringing it up when Callie's around. It's not something she needs to hear."

Jake nodded. "I understand. From now on I'll mind my own business."

"Thank you. Now can we please eat before our lunch gets too cold?"

Again, Jake nodded. "Bon appetite," he said with a fake French accent and picked up his fork, shoving a heaping mound of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I think you should let me leave early today," I told him. "Seeing as how it's my birthday and all."

Jake laughed. "We'll see," he said. "I might need someone to answer the phones for me, or something like that. I'm a helpless cop who can only eat donuts and drink coffee. I need someone to do the heavy lifting."

I rolled my eyes and stirred my soup. "Can I ask you something?"

Jake swallowed and nodded. The words were on the tip of my tongue, all I had to do was open my mouth and ask. Just say, "Do you want to go out with me?" and put it out there. Instead, I said, "How's your lunch?"

"Oh," Jake said looking down at his plate. "It's good. Why did you want to try it?"

I shook my head no. "I was just wondering."

"Oh."

I felt the heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks. "Can I ask _you_ something?" he said.

I glanced up, hopeful. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Why Paul?"

Dumbfounded I looked at him and said, "Huh?"

"Why are you dating him?" he clarified.

"Well," I began. "I, uh, he's interesting and always has interesting things to talk about."

"Really?" Jake asked skeptically.

"What?"

"It just doesn't sound like a good reason to date someone."

I blinked, seeing red. This man had the extraordinary talent to make me irritated one second and laughing the next. "So then tell me, what is a good reason to date someone?"

Jake shrugged. "Of course you have to be interested in them, but what about similar interests? Does he like the same movies or music as you?"

"Oh my God. You're like the brother I never had."

Jake cringed. "Jeez thanks."

"Well you are," I replied.

Outside, fat raindrops splattered against the diners windows. I turned toward the street and watched as the weather dampened the street. "Guess we better get back before it gets too bad, huh?" I said to which Jake replied with a nod.

He slid out of the booth, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, and tossed some money on the table. I reached for my wallet but he stopped me. "It's my treat, remember. You agreed to eat with me and I promised to tell you why I'm in stealth mode like a polar bear and not a ninja."

"Oh, yes, that. Why are polar bears stealthier than ninjas?" I slipped my wallet back into my purse and followed Jake out of the diner.

"You ever seen one those infrared cameras?"

"Like, live and in person?"

"No, like on TV or in movies."

"Yes," I said. "Maybe, I think. They show a person's body heat or something like that."

"Yeah, well, they don't work on polar bears."

"Okay, why?"

"Because they keep all their heat in. something about their fur, it helps them. So they can sneak up on hunters all stealthy like and maul you before you can scream like a girl."

I shook my head in disbelief. "How do you know that crap?"

"Discovery channel," he said simply. For a second I could imagine him as a little boy, all curious and getting into damn near everything, probably driving his mother batty.

On the street, we both hurried back to the station, clothes soaked from the thunderstorm rumbling overhead. "Well damn," Jake said ducking inside the station. "You better run home and change before you catch your death in those wet clothes."

I looked down at my wet sweater and soaked pants, then back up at Jake. His normally spiky black hair was flattened against his forehead, water dripping into his eyes. He squinted against the drops and stared back down at me.

"You asked me why I date Paul," I said breathlessly.

Jake nodded perceptively.

"I date him because he asked. I waited for you to, but you never did."

Jake stared at me incredulously. "Seriously?" he breathed.

"Seriously."

I felt my heart speed up in my chest. I knew what I was doing. A tiny version of myself was inside my head chipping away at a wall that had dammed up all the emotion, all the tears and fears, not just over the last ten years, but during the course of my entire life. I knew that if I kept going down this path the outcome could be ugly, not only for myself but for Callie as well.

On the opposite side of my head, plan B began to form, each aspect falling neatly into place. I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but I had to cover all the bases.

Then I shook my head. I was sick of being cautious, sick of calculating the risks and worry about the outcome. I was always so worried that I forgot to live in the now, I forgot to seize the moment and ride it, bucking and braying into the sunset.

So I let go; I let go of the fear and the panic. I leaned forward and oh so gently brushed my lips against Jake's stubbled cheek, his aftershave introducing itself to my senses. "Thank you for lunch," I said softly drawing back.

"It was my pleasure," he murmured.

And with that, I plucked my car keys out of my purse and headed toward my car to go home and change.

**-000-**

And just to answer the question, no, Mike Newton is NOT Callie's father; he is, however, someone who knows the truth. Paul and Bella (for some reason as much as I like the idea,) will not be together for long...please remember that no matter what, unless I say otherwise, Bella & Jake will end up together. I promise :)

Keep It There by The Weepies


	4. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

The Ties that Bind

Chapter Four - Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

Bella

Port Angeles – Two Months Ago

"Oh, excuse me," a deep baritone rumbled as I connected with a broad chest cloaked in a grey hooded Duke University sweatshirt. I jumped back clutching the novel, _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_, to my own tee-shirt covered chest.

"Sorry," I replied. "I got caught up in the synopsis of this story. I should've been watching where I was going."

"It's very good," mystery man said. "If I may."

"You may." Mystery man chuckled pleasantly. I clutched the book to my chest, the air in the bookstore swirled, carrying the faint scent of caffeine and adventure.

"I'm Paul," he said, shifting the stack of books in his hand. I caught a glimpse of the novel on top of the stack.

"Is that based on the movie?" I asked pointing at the paperback.

"Depends," Paul replied.

"On?"I shot back.

"Whether or not you have a name. I can always refer to you as the woman who bumped into me in A Novel Affair that rainy Saturday afternoon."

"Sorry," I blushed, "I'm Bella, and it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he replied. "And to answer your question, no, _The Life and Death of Charlie St. Cloud_ is significantly different than the movie appears to be."

"Oh really?"

Paul nodded. "We could grab a cup of coffee and talk about it."

It was, as the saying goes, all downhill from there. That afternoon, Paul and I sat in the coffee shop discussing our favorite novels to movies, agreeing to disagree about movies that were better as books and movies that were better than books. What we did agree on was the short list of movies that stayed as true as possible to the books.

After that day in the coffee shop, we started dating, if you could even call it that. We went out to eat, taking Callie to different places in Port Angeles and La Push, went to movies, and once, we went to Seattle to some well-known blues club there. That was as far as our dating went. We were dating in the sense that we went places together, but that was the extent of it. We both knew that the chemistry wasn't there. The truth was that we just both enjoyed the others company. That was all, really.

I recalled Jake's face as I told him I dated Paul because he asked. His jaw dropped and shock skittered across his features, drawing his bottom lip down, parting his lips in a small, surprised 'o.' His eyes had gone as wide as saucers.

For a moment, I felt bad, but as I drove home, soaking wet and feeling the cold creep its way into my bones I found it slightly amusing. A good-looking guy like him being afraid to ask a woman out, it was all just a pinch to amusing for me not to laugh.

At home, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and went to the phone to call the station and let them know I was taking the afternoon off. It was Friday afternoon; no one was going to miss me.

After leaving a message, I curled up on the couch with some Nicholas Sparks book I was positive I had already read, idly turning the pages but not really reading the words weaved together there. A little after three, the front door opened, a book bag hit the floor of the foyer and sneakers squeaked across the wood floor.

"Mom?" Callie called.

"In here," I called back, dog earring the page of the book and setting it on the coffee table. I sat up as Callie slumped into the room and flopped down at the end of the couch, a puppy dog look on her angel's face.

"What's wrong pumpkin?"

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Callie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she muttered again.

"Callahan Sophia," I growled. I hated this moody, good-luck-and-might-as-well-grab-your-dental-gear-because-getting-an-answer-out-of-me-is-gonna-be-harder-than-pulling-teeth-on-a-newborn, attitude. It drove me batty.

"A girl at school was mean to me. She said I was fat and dressed like a hobo."

"And what did you say?"

"That I might look like a hobo, but she smelled like one and that was way worse." Callie looked up at me, waiting for me to yell, I supposed.

I hooted in laughter and high fived her instead.

"Its not funny mom," she said after dropping her arm. "It sucked. I hate it here. I wanna go back to Los Angeles."

I frowned and tried to think of something positive to say. Thinking of nothing, I told her the truth. "Girls are mean everywhere Callie. And if you think they're bad here, they'll be ten times worse in L.A."

She sighed unhappily and laid her head on the arm of the couch. "I still hate it here."

"I know," I replied, rubbing her leg. "It'll get better, just wait." It wouldn't, not as far as girls like that one were concerned. It just surprised me that they were this nasty at such a young age. Yes, I thought, Callie _does_ act older than her ten years, but part of that might have something to do with growing up in L.A. It was like there was something in the water out there. Girls walked up and down Rodeo Drive all looking older than their young years with their heavy makeup and minimalistic clothing. They got into trouble – did drugs and slept around and god only knows what else. Most of their parents were off doing who knows what with who knows who so they were left to basically raise themselves and thus was the result. But since we moved to Forks the L.A. mentality had begun to sort of fade away and Callie was what most people would consider a normal kid.

"I know it's your birthday," she said softly. "But can we skip Rigatoni's?"

I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. "Sure baby, if you want. We can stay home, watch a movie, and have some cake. Want to run to the store with me to pick one out?"

"Can it be an ice cream cake?" she ventured.

"Would it make you smile?"

She sat up and shot me a look that screamed, "Duh!"

"What movie do you want to pick up?"

Callie shrugged. "I dunno. How about _Romeo and Juliet_?"

I stifled a groan and smiled instead. "Sure, if you want to watch _Romeo and Juliet_ _**again**_, I guess we can rent it."

Callie let out a little excited yip. She had this odd fascination with the Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio version of the movie. I don't know where it came from or why, but one afternoon back in L.A. about a year or so ago, I came home from a yoga class to find her lying on the floor, her chin propped up on her hands, totally wrapped up in the movie.

When I asked her what she liked about it she said, "Romeo is cute. Why are they talking like that?"

I laughed and sat down, explaining the Shakespearean dialect and what the meaning of the movie was. At the end, she cried and looked up at me. "Why did they kill themselves, why couldn't they just stay alive and be happy?"

I had just shrugged. "It's why the story is so popular, they were star-crossed. It was their fate, I guess. They were going to die. If they had lived the story wouldn't be as great as it is, I guess."

We tried watching other Shakespeare movies, but none of them held the same enticement that _Romeo and Juliet _did, I guess. Either that or it was because none of them had Leonardo DiCaprio as the hunky lead actor.

Callie hopped off the couch, her misery over being a hobo fading. I got up as well and headed toward the foyer where my purse and car keys were waiting. As I opened the door, a pair of strong hands bearing a vase full of sunflowers greeted me.

"Oh, hey," Jake said from behind the flowers.

"Hi," I said peering around the large yellow flower heads.

"You forgot these. I didn't want them to just sit on your desk all weekend so I figured I'd bring them by on my way home."

"Ooh those are so pretty," Callie gushed rushing toward the door. "Mom, did Jake buy those for you?"

"No," I said blushing. "They're from everyone at the station." I reached out and took the vase from Jake. "For my birthday," I added for clarification. Setting the flowers on the table by the door, I readjusted my purse strap and stood there uncomfortably.

"We're going to get cake and rent a movie," Callie told Jake. She rushed toward the front door excited at the prospect of cake and DiCaprio.

"Sounds fun. What movie are you renting?"

Callie pushed past Jake and leapt down the porch steps. "_Romeo and Juliet_," she called as she ran through a soggy pile of fallen leaves toward the car.

Jake stopped, waiting for me. "I thought you guys were going out to dinner."

"Rough day at school," I told him. "Some girl told her she dresses like a hobo."

"Ouch." Jake cringed, his eyes following Callie across the lawn. "What was her come back?"

"She told the other girl that she smelled like a hobo."

"Good one," he chuckled. I smiled and watched Callie leaning breathlessly against the Volvo's passenger side door.

"That's what I said, but she was kind of upset about it and asked to stay home tonight. I wasn't really feeling up to driving all the way to Port Angeles tonight anyway, so I complied."

"Oh, well, have fun with your evening." He started back toward his house.

"Hey Jake?" I called across the yard. He stopped and turned toward me. "You have any plans for dinner?"

He shook his head no and smiled. "I was planning on picking up a sandwich and a six pack and watching a Mariners game, why?"

"I just thought maybe you'd like to have a real meal." I grinned at him and waited for his response.

"Are you asking me to have dinner with you?"

"Yes," I replied boldly. "Callie makes a wicked pizza-"

"I do," she yelled from her place by the car. "I make the best pizza in the world!"

"See, the best pizza in the world. So what do you say?"

"What time should I come over?"

I laughed and glanced at my watch. "Around six, is that good?"

He nodded. "I'll see you at six."

Jake made his way toward his house and I hurried toward the car, unlocking it, and slipping inside. Callie hopped into the passenger seat and awkwardly reached for her seat belt.

"Hey mom," she said as I backed the car down the driveway.

"Hmm?" I murmured.

"Do you like Jake?"

"Of course I like him, he's very nice."

"No, I mean, do you like him like you liked Daddy?"

Ooh. Wasn't expecting that one, I thought, but it raised an interesting question. Did I like Jake the way I liked – loved, Edward? I wasn't sure. I was physically attracted to him; he made me dizzy in the head with that stupid little school girls crush I had on him.

Okay, so obviously I liked him. To Callie I said, "I don't know."

"Do you think he's cute?"

I laughed. "Yes. I think he's cute. Why?"

"Just wondering. He thinks you're cute too."

I glanced at her from out of the corner of my eye. "How do you know that?"

She smiled smugly and said, "When he was working on the garage door, there was a man who came to help him, remember?"

"Yes, Sam. He's a friend of Jake's. He's the guy who fixed your bedroom window."

"Mhmm. Well, I was playing in the back of the garage – they didn't know I was there – and Jake told Sam that he thought you were beautiful."

"Oh. Well, you shouldn't eavesdrop on other people's conversation. You could hear something that you don't want to hear."

Callie nodded and hummed along to the radio. I thought about the two of us, Jake and me, and what it would be like to be with him in that way. It had been a long time. A really, really long time since I'd felt the stirrings of anything even remotely close to what I felt right now.

And if I felt this way about Jake, then I needed to tell him the truth about Forks, about me, and about why I left.

-000-

The grocery store was crowded on this dry Friday evening. Callie and I made our way toward the freezers by the bakery, debating the merits of vanilla ice cream cake versus chocolate ice cream cake. Reaching the freezers, we stood in front of them peering into the thick glass.

"I like that one," she said pointing to a large cake that would have taken us the rest of the year to eat.

"How about this one instead," I said pointing to a smaller one.

Callie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "That one," she said, tapping the freezer door.

"Okay," I said pulling open the door. It was too big for just the two of us, but still smaller than the first one she'd chosen. "What kind of pizza are we going to make tonight?"

"Pepperoni!" she exclaimed.

"For you," I retorted.

"Ew mom, you're not gonna make that gross pizza with the green boogey looking stuff are you?"

"Oh please," I said, exasperation lacing my voice. "It's good."

Callie rolled her eyes and pushed the cart toward the produce department. I trailed behind her, stopping at the fresh herbs, picking up some basil. I breathed in the earthy, slightly minty smell as I carried it toward the cart. Callie was dropping apples into a bag as I went for the Roma tomatoes.

"Just a few," I said. "I'll get more later on this week when I go grocery shopping."

She nodded and tied off the bag, setting it into the cart next to the basil. I carried the tomatoes back to the cart and motioned for her to follow me. "We need to get some cheese, pepperoni for you, and a jar of pesto because I'm being lazy and not making it."

With Callie at the helm, we successfully avoided other shoppers, collected our items, and fled the supermarket like Bonnie and Clyde, sans the criminal charges. After loading the bags into the trunk of the car, I swung by the movie store, picked up _Romeo and Juliet_ for Callie and _(500) Days of Summer _and _It's Complicated_ for me.

By five, we were back home and in the kitchen with the radio playing as Callie beat the pizza dough into submission while singing along to some song by Justin Bieber.

"_Baby," _bang, bang, "_baby, baby, nooo," _bang, bang, bang,_ "like baby, baby, baby, ooh, just thought you'd always be mine," _bang bang.

"Callie," I said over the singing and banging. "A little more singing, a little less brutalizing the pizza crust."

"Sorry mom," she blushed and set down the meat tenderizer and started poking at the pizza dough. "Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you and your mom used to do stuff like this?"

"No," I told her. "My mom, well, she wasn't around much when I was a kid."

"How come?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, she liked to be other places more, I guess."

"That sucks."

"I guess."

"Did you see her a lot?"

"Not a lot, but I saw her enough. She would come visit me every summer when I was a kid. She'd stay for two weeks and we'd spend time together."

"Then where'd she go?"

"Back to wherever she was living at the time."

"Did you guys make your special brownies when she came to visit?"

"Yes," I lied. It was a recipe my grandmother had passed down to Renee, but the woman could barely boil water properly. I found the recipe one summer in a cookbook in the closet, made the brownies for her, and continued making them as I got older. There was something comforting about the task that made me happy, and really, Callie didn't need to know that Renee was the front-runner in the race for world's worst mother ever.

"How come she doesn't ever come see me?"

"She lives in France now. I'm pretty sure it costs a lot of money to come home, so maybe she's saving it up so she can come see you."

"Maybe," Callie murmured.

I finished with the cheese and handed a bowl to her. "Here pumpkin."

Callie took the cheese and set it down next to her pan then went for the pepperoni. "Is Paul coming over tonight?"

"No," I said. "He had to do something for his school."

"Oh okay. Jake should be here soon," she said glancing at the clock. Just then, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" she shouted and raced toward the door.

I heard the front door open and Callie talking to Jake. He laughed at whatever she said and the pair of them came back toward the kitchen. I glanced up as he walked in, my breath catching in my throat. He had on a nice fitting blue long sleeved shirt that clung nicely to his biceps.

I glanced away as the blush raced across my cheeks. "Glad you could come," I said as I fought for control of my emotions.

"Me too," he replied. "I brought soda," he said, setting a 12 pack of orange slice on the counter.

"Thanks."

"It smells good in here, what kind of pizza are we making?" He peered at Callie's pizza. "Ooh pepperoni my favorite. And what are you making?"

He glanced at the pesto-smeared crust and wrinkled his nose. "What the hell is that?"

"Language, please," I reminded him.

"Oh sorry."

"It's okay. And to answer your question, it's pesto."

"It looks like baby sh- I mean baby poop."

Callie giggled dramatically. "It does!"

"It's good," I said defensively.

"What kind of pizza are you making?" Jake asked.

"It's a tomato basil pizza. This half," I said pointing to the pesto, "is going to be pesto, then a layer of cheese and a layer of tomato. This half," I said pointing to the opposite half, "its going to be some a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, a layer of basil, a layer of cheese, a layer of tomato, another layer of cheese then a sprinkle of parmesan on the top."

"Sounds good," he said. "I think I'll have Callie's pepperoni."

Jake and Callie shared a laugh. "Whatever," I said. "Eat your pizza. I will enjoy mine all by myself."

"Tell me she at least bought herself a decent birthday cake," he whispered loudly to Callie.

"She did," Callie replied then tugged Jake over to the freezer where the cake was stored.

"Score!" he joked. "Ice cream cake."

"It's my favorite," Callie said.

I picked up her pizza and slid it into the oven beside my own. "You two kill me."

"Hey mom, can we play a board game while the pizza cooks?"

"Like what?"

She turned to Jake and said, "What games do you like? We have operation, twister, scrabble, clue, monopoly, and Uno. I wanna play twister, do you wanna play twister?"

"Sure," he conceded.

"Yes!" Callie hissed and hurried off toward the closet under the stairs to retrieve the ancient board game.

"Good luck," I told him. "She's limber as hell."

"Oh don't think you're getting out of playing too, there miss tomato and pesto pizza."

"It's my birthday," I shot back.

"All the more reason to play," he replied.

"Fine," I sighed and followed him into the living room. Callie was smoothing the edges of the mat when we entered. "You guys ready?" she asked. Jake and I both nodded and the game began with a right hand here, a left hand there, a foot here, another one there.

Halfway through the game, Jake and I were so tangled up it was beginning to look like the opportunistic beginning of a cheaply made porno. As Callie flicked the spinner and announced that, I had to take my right hand off the red circle, and place it on the green circle all the way across the room I fell, collapsing to the floor with Jake's limbs tangled in mine.

"Well that was fun," I laughed, extracting my limbs from his.

"I'm going to spend the rest of the weekend hobbling around like an old man."

"Nah, you'll be fine. I'll be right back; I'm going to go check on the pizza."

-000-

Later that night, after pizza and cake had been eaten and Jake and Callie had polished off the entire 12 pack of orange soda, we sat on the couch while Callie snored on softly on the floor.

"So, are you having a good birthday?" Jake asked.

I nodded in the flickering light of the TV. On the screen, Romeo and Juliet were peering at each other through a shimmering fish tank. Des'ree sang seductively in the background. "As good as is to be expected."

"So Paul…"

"Had other plans tonight, like I told you."

"What do you see in him?" he asked.

"Jake," I sighed. "We're really just friends. That's it. Nothing more."

"Oh. Really?"

I nodded. "Really, really."

"So if I were to ask you out to dinner next Friday night what would you say?"

"I'd ask you if I needed a babysitter or is my daughter invited as well."

"And if I said you'd need a babysitter?"

"I'd say okay, I'll call my sitter and see if she can watch Callie next Friday night."

"Is eight too late?"

"No," I answered. "Eight is perfect."

"Okay, eight it is."

"I love this part," I said. I know it sounded like I was blowing him off, but I was distracted by the epic love story unfolding before me.

"Yeah because in about two minutes, his whole worlds about to be upended."

"Just how life is," I said. "It's sure as hell isn't always pretty."

We sat and watched as the inevitable happened as the young lovers realized their fate bestowed upon them by a last name and a father's grudge.

"Well," Jake said with a yawn. "It's late. I should probably head home."

I glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was nearing ten. I picked up the remote and turned the movie off. Jake stood up and looked down at Callie. "Want me to carry her upstairs?"

"Oh no, you don't have to. I'll just wake her up."

"Don't wake her, I'll take her." He bent down and picked Callie's sleeping form up as if she weighed no more than a down pillow. She snuggled into his chest and murmured something about kittens and an alligator. I smiled and followed the two of them up the stairs. This whole evening felt so normal, so run of the mill that the next natural thing would have been for Jake to put Callie in bed, shut off the hall light and follow me into Charlie's old room, razzing me about getting another year older as I slipped into a comfortable old pair of pajamas.

For a fleeting second I almost wished it would be that way, that I could have that sense of normalcy and completeness. It was a pang in my stomach as I realized that I would never have that, that I hadn't even had it with Edward.

Jake laid Callie in bed and stepped back as I tugged the covers up and over her. I dropped a kiss on her forehead and murmured, "I love you."

She smacked her lips together and said, "Please don't let the ogre eat the mice," before rolling over and snuggling further down into her pillows.

"Kittens, alligators, ogres and mice," I said. "Must be one hell of a dream."

"Must be."

I followed him back down the stairs and into the foyer. "Thanks for inviting me over tonight," he said, pulling on his jacket. "I had a lot of fun."

"Thanks for coming. I had fun too."

We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I willed him to kiss me, even though the simple act scared the shit out of me. Jake leaned forward like he was going to then changed his mind. "See you later," he said, disappearing out the front door.

"See you," I said as it shut. As I went to lock it, I saw him coming back. I opened the door and opened my mouth to ask if he forgot something, but he took me by surprise, taking my face in his warm hands and pressing his lips lightly to mine.

Fear coursed through me, the age-old 'fight or flight' instinct kicking into overdrive. _Relax,_ I told myself. _It's just a kiss. _Jake felt me stiffen and released my face.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just…I've been wanting to do that since you moved in."

"It's okay," I said. I fought to keep the fear at bay. "It's not you, it's me. I'm a basket case."

"You know you can tell me. Maybe I can help."

I shook my head. "I can't talk about it. I don't even want to remember it happened."

"Okay," he said softly. "If that's what you want, but if you ever change your mind, I'm always going to be here for you."

"Thanks Jake."

"You're welcome. Now go get some sleep. And happy birthday."

-000-

I had to change some of the earlier details of the story...I don't know what was going on in my head...Bella is actually 29, (not 30) and Callie is 10, almost 11. Sorry if that throws anyone off...


	5. The FallThe Flight

Chapter Five – "The Fall/The Flight"

The Ties That Bind

Bella

A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight stuff...

***Just a quick note, this chapter might be hard to read for some people***

The ringing of the phone woke me bright and early that Saturday morning. I rolled over, the opposite side of the bed cold against my bare skin and blindly reaching for the phone. "Hello?" I croaked into the receiver.

The quiet humming of static answered me. "Hello," I said again. Still no answer. I hung up and rolled back over, closing my eyes.

Thirty minutes later the phone rang again. I rolled back over and picked it up. "Hello," I said impatiently. When no one answered again I said, "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but in case you haven't noticed, it's seven thirty in the damn morning. Some of us like to sleep in a little bit so unless you have something to say, quit calling me."

Part of me was waiting for some kind of creepy, whispery voice to say that the call was coming from inside the house. I shook off the eerie feeling and hung up the phone, this time turning the ringer off. I couldn't, however, go back to sleep. I lay in the bed, staring up at the white ceiling, the fan circling lazily overhead.

_Jake finally asked me out_, I thought, smiling to myself. But along with that came the nasty business of telling him the truth before things got to serious. It wasn't something I could wait to tell him, because let's face it, if he didn't already know something was up with me, he sure did after he tried to kiss me last night.

I slid out of bed and padded quietly to the door, opening it carefully. The hall was quiet. I tiptoed down stairs and into the kitchen where I fixed a pot of coffee. While waiting for it to brew, I pulled on a sweater and opened the front door to retrieve the morning paper.

The pavement was cold under my feet, the newspaper bag damp. As I picked it up, Jake's front door opened and he jogged down the steps in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, and a bright yellow Livestrong t-shirt.

"Morning," he said when he reached the end of the driveway.

"Good morning," I replied. "Going for a run?"

He nodded looking up at the light blue sky. "It's a good morning for one. Want to join me?"

I laughed and shook my head no. "I don't run."

"Suit yourself." He fiddled with the device on his arm and turned north. For a fleeting second I wanted to call his name and spill my guts to him. I didn't though. I let him jog down the street, his feet steadily slapping the concrete beneath his shoes.

Inside the house, the phone rang. I hurried back up the walk to answer it. "Hello," I said.

Heavy breathing answered me. "Who is this?" I demanded. Part of me expected some raspy voice to tell me to leave town or some other eerily similar message.

However, heavy breather said nothing. "Whatever," I muttered as I dropped the phone back into the cradle. I turned to the fridge and scribbled, "_Call Phone Company on Monday_" on the magnetized pad hanging there. If I had to, I would change our phone number, unless the phone company could block the number. Either way the calls were creepy and they had to stop.

That weekend went by quickly and soon enough it was Monday all over again. The creepy phone calls stopped and I forgot to call the phone company. Monday passed, as did Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and before I knew it, Friday was knocking at my door.

I was nervous all day, unsure of how to proceed. Go to dinner with Jake; tell him all my dirty laundry, watching him run away screaming and spend the weekend crying like the bus driver ran over my dog and eating Cherry Garcia like it's going out of style.

Yeah, that didn't seem fun.

Or the alternative. Tell him nothing and make up lame ass excuses for why I'm such a spaz, or why I act like a Catholic Nun when he tries to kiss me.

I had to tell him the truth. I had to. There was no alternative. It was either lie or…lie. And I couldn't lie to him. Somehow, someway, I'd find the strength to tell him the truth.

-000-

"I'm sorry for the terrible, clichéd date," Jake said apologetically. "I mean, dinner is kind of universal."

"Dinner was fine," I said as we walked down the street. I looked around as the buildings grew farther and farther apart. The noises I could hear a few minutes ago, car engines and horns honking, the sound of a woman yelling at a man, the echoes of her screeching cry still bouncing off the buildings a few blocks back, had all faded. It was unnaturally quiet.

I slowed down, suddenly afraid. Ahead of me, Jake slowed to a stop and glanced at me. "You okay?" he asked, holding his hand out for me to take. I nodded and looked around. "I'm fine," I said. I glanced down at his hand waiting to be taken. I stood behind him for a second, unsure of whether or not to take it. When I did, it was large and warm. It enveloped mine and chased away the cold that had lingered in my heart for so long.

"Your hand is cold. Are you warm enough?"

I nodded falling into step beside him. With my hand in his, we continued walking for a few more blocks before coming to a stop outside of what looked like an abandoned building. "What is this place?" I asked, looking up at the sign above the door.

"Port Angeles' response to the Willard Smith Planetarium." He opened the front door, bending slightly at the waist and making a sweeping motion with his hand.

"Why thank you sir," I said grandly and dramatically entered the observatory. A large photo of the universe winked at us, thousands of clear Christmas lights twinkling in the shape of various constellations. A Coldplay song popped into my head. It was the one with the lyrics about the stars and how they shine. Once again, Jake took my hand, leading me toward the back wall and the universe.

"This place is great," he said softly. "If we go up to the top level, there's a telescope up there and you can see the plants. "

"That's cool," I said. "What made you decide to bring me here?"

We entered another room where the universe was spinning around us. Overhead, a female voice lectured listeners about the creation of the universe, stating its creation was due largely in fact to the big bang theory. I drowned the voice out and looked around the room.

In the center of the room was a bench, circular, offering a view of the universe regardless of where you decided to sit. I sank down onto the bench and looked up at the ceiling. Jake sat down beside me. He leaned back and, like me, looked at the ceiling.

When he put his arm around my shoulders, I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. The peaceful feeling returned and I longed to stay exactly where I was, the rest of the world – well most of it anyway, be damned.

I wasn't worried about what would happen if I let my guard down, or if he was going to try anything. I was able to sit there and just…be, in the moment. We sat there for a while, listening to the lecture and watching as the universe changed around us.

"Why'd you bring me to this place?" I asked.

"I was skimming through the A.M. channels the other day, trying to find out the score of a ball game when the radio stopped on some kind of hour of power station, you know, the religious stuff. Well the guy talking said that you should take your scars and turn them into stars. I know it's not physically possible, but it made a lot of sense. I know you have a lot of scars, things you'd rather never talk about, but maybe it's time to start letting them go, let them turn into stars."

"I was raped," I said, the words slipping out before I had the chance to stop them. "That's why I left Forks way back when."

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready," he said quietly.

"I have to," I told him. "Because I know that this," I pointed to him and me, "This isn't some casual thing. If it were, if you were Paul, I wouldn't be telling you all this. But you're not Paul, and I feel things when I'm with you, things I haven't felt in a long time, and I want to be honest with you so that you know what you're possibly getting yourself into."

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, defeat in his voice.

"You don't have to say anything," I said. "All you have to do is listen."

Jake nodded and pulled me closer to him. "I can do that."

I took a deep breath and began the story.

"Spring break eleven years ago," I began. "There was a party. It was _the_ party of the year; everybody was going to be there. My best friend, Mike, and I, well, somehow we ended up at the party. It wasn't really our scene, but like I said, somehow we ended up there."

I remembered that night like it was yesterday. Mike drove to Port Angeles that night. We had originally planned to see a movie, but then we ran into Jessica, a girl from school who told us about the party. Mike looked at me and said, "Wanna go?"

"That night, I was raped by three different boys. They took it a step further and pulled a page from Showgirls, raped me, then beat the shit out of me and tossed me down a flight of stairs." It still hurt to say those words aloud. The physical injuries from that night had long since healed but the mental ones were still as raw as the day it happened.

I closed my eyes and let that night wash over me. It was spring, still kind of cool in Forks, definitely not warm enough for the trips to the beach where girls clad in bikinis and suntan lotion hung out looking sexy. For us, spring break meant jeans and long sleeved t-shirts, maybe a t-shirt if you were in the sun. Like I said, Mike and I were in Port Angeles that night to see a movie.

That was the first mistake.

As we waited for our burgers, Jessica Stanley and her merry band of cronies walked in. If I knew then what I know now, I would have knocked her the hell out and drug Mike out of the burger joint. Instead, however, I stood there like the socially awkward retard I was and watched as she flirted with Mike until he was putty in her perfectly manicured hand.

When she walked away, he turned to me and said, "Jessica invited us to a party. Wanna go?"

"No," I said. "I want to go see the movie, like we planned on doing."

Mike pouted and practically threw a hissy fit. Muttering under his breath about how I wasn't any fun and all I did was keep him down. "Fine," I relented. "Let's go. But I swear if it's lame I want to leave."

So we got our burgers and got back into my truck, heading across town to the address Jessica had scribbled on a napkin. Hard-hitting bass was pounding through the night air. People with red and blue plastic cups were stumbling drunkenly across the front yard, giggling as they sloshed alcohol all over themselves.

I eyed the house warily but followed Mike up the walk and into the foyer. Almost immediately, he ditched me, seeking out Jessica Stanley who promised him God only knows what just to get him here. He, we, should have known better. Hollywood made all kinds of movies about people like us and party's like these.

It always ended badly.

_Carrie, She's All That, Ten Things I Hate About You_, the list goes on and on.

I watched Mike's as he disappeared, seeking out my own little dark corner to occupy until he was ready to go. As I was heading in the direction of the backyard, Riley Biers, the hottest guy at school bumped into me, a smile breaking across his angel's face.

"Hey," he said smoothly. "How are you?"

Again. I should have known better, but when the hottest guy at school asks how you are, you tend to forget logic.

"Fine," I blushed. "Rocking party."

"It's a little loud." He wrinkled his nose in the direction of the stereo. "I don't really like parties. Want to go someplace a little quieter?"

_Is Britney Spears a crack-hoe?_ I thought and stupidly nodded my head.

Riley took my hand and practically dragged me toward the stairs. For some reason, I never thought this was strange or out of character. I was Cinderella being granted her chance; no longer the dumpy housemaid I was someone special, someone worthy of the hottest guy in school and the most promising quarterback Forks High School had seen in decades. God how I was wrong. Present me wanted to tell past me to turn around and run away now; save myself all the pain and heartbreak.

With my hand still in his, Riley barreled down the hallway and threw open a door at the end. "Come on in," he said.

I followed him into the room, the bedroom, hesitating in the doorway. The realization that this was strange was starting to wiggle its way into my brain, rooting there after the seed of doubt had been planted.

"It's okay," he said. "No one's gonna bother us up here." he sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced at me with puppy dog eyes. "And it's quiet too."

He had a point. It was relatively quiet in the room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. Riley patted the space next to him on the bed. I crossed the room and sat down next to him. "Want a drink?" he asked, leaning over and producing a bottle of Grey Goose from under the bed.

"Um…sure, yeah, I guess so."

Riley unscrewed the lid and pressed the bottle to his lips, tipping it back and taking a long swallow. When he was done, he handed it to me. I pressed it to my lips and took a small sip. It burned on the way down; I fought the urge to vomit.

As soon as I handed the bottle back to Riley, he set it down and turned toward me, angling his face, more appropriately his lips, toward mine. In my chest, my heart skipped a beat.

_Yes! _My subconscious cheered. _Finally!_

He kissed me, pushing his tongue sloppily into my mouth. I let him kiss me even though he was terrible at it and tried desperately to catch my breath.

Then the world turned upside down. Riley pushed me back onto the bed, pinning me between his legs. He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled on it, pulling it up. I grabbed the hem and pulled it back down, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Riley," I said. "Stop. I want to go."

"No you don't," he retorted. "Quit playing hard to get, you know you want me."

"Please," I said. "I just want to go."

To the left, a door – the bathroom door -opened and two guys came out, smug grins on their faces, a video camera in the hand of the taller boy. "Smile for the camera geek," the taller of the two said. I recognized him from school, Tyler Crowley and his little asshole sidekick, Eric Yorkie.

"Please," I said again. "Just let me go."

Riley reared his arm back and struck my across the face. I gasped, my vision blurring as tears filled my eyes. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up," he sneered, his handsome face a contorted mask of rage and repressed anger.

I arched my back, kicking my legs here and there, trying desperately to get this boy off me. He reared back and slapped me again; the sting brought tears to my eyes and made me fight harder.

He glared at Tyler and Eric. "You two dipshits want to hold her?"

Tyler dropped the camera, standing to the left of my head. He grabbed my arm and pinned it down, then lifted a leg and kneeled on my arm. The pain was instantaneous and Tyler giggled manically, pressing down harder once he saw he was hurting me. On the opposite side, Eric did the same thing. Both had a wicked gleam in the eyes as they stared down at me. Riley reached for the button on my jeans and unsnapped it.

"No, no, no," I pleaded, feeling weak and helpless. I kicked my legs, aiming my feet at his crotch, missing completely, kicking empty air instead. I kept kicking; kicking and screaming for help.

He cocked his arm back, this time punching me in the stomach. I cried out as my breath was stolen from my lungs and my jeans were ripped from my body. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend I was anywhere but here, about to do something that wasn't this.

When my breath returned, I struggled against Eric and Tyler's grip, kicked my legs in riley's direction, each time I struggled one of them would hit me. I could feel the bruises already swelling under my skin.

Then the worst part happened. With brutal hands that forced my legs apart, and forced intrusion burning the inside of me, I cried and pleaded, begging him to stop. As he shoved himself into my, grunting and digging his fingers into my thighs, the door opened and I screamed, "oh my god, help me."

A girl's disgusted sigh entered the room. "Fucking pig," she spat. "I thought you loved me Riley."

"Help me, please," I cried.

"Fuck you slut," she hissed at me. "Sleep with my fucking boyfriend, see if I give a shit."

"Get the fuck out Bree," riley grunted.

Then the door slammed and I was alone with the three of them again. How could she just stand there and not help me? How could she think I wanted this?

"Please, stop," I cried, cringing as a fist flew at my face.

I wondered if he would ever stop, if I would ever leave this room. But the attack didn't stop. As riley finished, he pulled out, he reached down and slapped me. "You shouldn't have fought," he said, teeth gritted. "You should have done it the easy way because now we're really gonna fuck you up."

He stepped aside and traded places with Tyler. Tyler was more brutal. He shoved himself inside of me, ripping my hips forward as he plowed himself deeper and deeper into me. As he raped me, riley knelt on my shoulder and jerked off over my face, spraying his fluids into my face.

I wanted to throw up, scared and alone and violated. Then the attack continued as Tyler finished and Eric took his place. Each assault was worse than the previous as they defiled my body with their act and their fists.

When the three of them were done, they threw me off the bed. I landed on the floor in a heap, struggling to make it to the door, the pain so intense I could barely think. As I crawled, I could hear them behind me then the first foot hit my ribs, breaking them. I collapsed onto the floor as the assault continued.

The door opened and I was dragged down the hallway. At the top of the stairs, someone pushed me and I tumbled down the steps, landing in a bruised and bloody pile on the living room floor.

After that, everything became sort of blurry. I woke up in a hospital, a kind old doctor staring down at me as I came to. My eyelids fluttered and he smiled. "Welcome back," he said gently. "I was beginning to think you'd checked out permanently."

"Wh- where am I?" I tried to look around but everything hurt. I felt like I'd been hit by a Mack truck and lived to tell the tale.

The doctor smiled again and said, "You're in the hospital dear. You had a terrible accident. This young man out here said you fell down a flight of stairs."

I didn't say anything. Fell down a flight of stairs my ass, I thought wishing I could look around for Mike so that I could beat him as badly as I was for making me go to that stupid party in the first place.

"I need," I said biting back the tears. "I need to take a shower, I feel dirty."

"You're going to have to wait," the doctor said.

"No," I said adamantly. "I need to take a shower now!"

"I'm going to give you a little something to calm you down," he said and produced a needle with clear liquid in it from his pocket.

"No I don't want that," I said as he injected it into the IV bag.

The fog swirled around my head again, dragging me back under. I was unconscious for three days. When I finally came around again Charlie was waiting for me. Tears filled his eyes as I blinked at him.

"I was so worried about you," he said rushing to the side of the bed.

I didn't say anything; there was nothing I could say, so I nodded and mouthed the words I'm sorry. The doctors kept me in the hospital for three more days and then finally let me go home.

When I finally got home, I spent a week in bed pretending I didn't feel good and showering compulsively while Charlie was at work. No matter what I did, I could feel their hands on my skin, touching me. Anytime I thought about it I threw up and showered. By the end of the second week, Mike came around to find out why I hadn't gone back to school yet."

"What did you tell him?" Jake asked.

"The truth," I replied. "He already knew. He overheard the three of them regaling the other football players with the details of that night. He apologized profusely, but there was nothing that could've been done. I blamed him, part of me still does. If we had just gone to see the movie that night like we planned none of that would have ever happened. But we went to that party because he wanted to.

"That was the last time I talked to Mike Newton. I dropped out of regular school, choosing to go at night instead. It was easier, there were no constant reminders, or whispers of what happened. Then at graduation I found out I was pregnant. If I told Charlie I was pregnant that meant I had to tell him about what really happened at the party. So I didn't. I bumped into Mike one day at the library and, in a moment of weakness, told him instead.

He told me about his brother who lived in San Francisco and had wanted to adopt a baby. It was the perfect cover. I contacted Mike's brother who was thrilled at the prospect of finally starting a family with his life partner. I told Charlie that I was accepted to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music and that was the end of it.

I went to California, met with Mike's brother, and started the process of giving away my baby. On the day Matt, Mike's brother, and Ryan, his life partner, were supposed to sign the paperwork, they never came. I sat in the lawyer's office for over three hours waiting for them to show up. When the realization that they weren't coming finally sank in, I hyperventilated in the lobby and passed out, taking an ambulance ride to the hospital.

After I was released from the hospital, scared and alone, I started looking for a job, a permanent place to live and I did the one thing I'd been putting off. I called the San Francisco Conservatory of Music and informed them that I would not be attending classes that fall.

"I haven't played the violin since that day. I packed it up and buried it in the back of my closet. Then when I married Edward I put it in the attic and forgot about it."

Jake sat beside me, tears streaming down his face.

"Don't cry," I said. "It's…well, it is what it is."

"No," he said. "It's more than that. You should never have had to go through something like that."

Exhausted, I laid my head on Jake's shoulder and closed my eyes. "If you don't mind, I'd like to head home."

"Okay," Jake said. "Do you want to stay here while I go get the car?"

"No," I said tiredly. "I'll come with you. I don't want to be alone."

Out on the street the night was quiet. Silently we walked back to where jakes car was parked. I wondered what he was thinking about what I told him. It was a lot to dump on someone, especially when it was so sudden but he had to know. He had to understand why I was prone to random freak outs and why I froze up when strange men got to close to me, or why I would send longing looks in his direction then freak-out when he tried to kiss me.

"Sorry," I said softly. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you."

"No," Jake said defensively. "I'm glad you told me. I can understand you better now."

Something about the tone of his voice set off alarms in my head. "Jake, I'm not some enigma wrapped in a mystery. There's nothing to figure out."

He stopped and turned toward me, his hands reaching out for my arms. "I know that. I just…well…I mean, I knew something happened after your birthday. I tried to kiss you and you totally tensed. I need to know what my boundaries are, what you're okay with, and what you're not okay with."

"Just don't –"

"Don't what?" he interrupted.

"Don't get any ideas, or do anything stupid. I've dealt with this, and I don't need saving. It is what it is and that's all there is to it."

"What would I do? What could I do?"

Try to find the sons of bitches and kill them, I thought. Like Edward tried to do. Hence, reason number one for the divorce. He paid a private investigator to find Riley, Tyler, and Eric, and then he supposedly paid said private investigator a boatload of money to "get rid" of them.

When I told him that he was being irrational, he freaked out on me and told me that I was the irrational one for being too damn afraid of them to ever speak up about what happened. He was right, but that wasn't the point. Wasn't I supposed to be able to deal with this in my own way?

"Nothing," I said. "There's nothing you can do."

Jake unlocked the car door and opened it, taking my hand as I climbed inside. As I buckled the seat belt, he shut the door and crossed the front of the car climbing in behind the steering wheel. "I wish there was something I could say or do, something that would make this all just a little easier for you."

"You can treat me like you always have, that would be the best thing you could do for me. I don't tell people because they treat me with kid gloves and it irritates me."

"I can do that," he said. He pulled out of the parking spot and onto the road. "Is this okay?" he asked resting his hand on my knee.

"Mhmm," I murmured sleepily. "That's great."

-000-

So there it is..the reason that Bella left Forks...

"The Fall/The Flight" by Awake!Awake!


	6. Head Full Of Doubt

Chapter Six – "Head Full Of Doubt..."

The Ties That Bind

Bella

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight stuff...**

Once upon a time, my life was pretty much perfect. Of course, it really wasn't, but from the outside looking in, it was. Then one day everything that was right was made wrong. Very, very wrong. Edward decided to hire a private investigator to track down Riley, Tyler, and Eric.

I didn't find out until much later what his intentions were after he found them. When he finally told me that he planned to have them "taken care of," I totally freaked. To me, anything he did to them would make him the same as them – one human being violating another. It wasn't something I could live with.

The first time he brought it up; we got into a huge fight about it.

"That is not the way you solve a problem, Edward," I said exasperatedly, my eyes darting to his in the mirror.

He ran his hands through his hair and turned toward the bathroom, taking a few steps before turning back around. "No, Isabella, burying your head in the sand is not the way you solve problems. You have the opportunity to do something good not only for yourself, but for other's as well and you just want to sit there and act as if it never happened."

There was no argument I could utter that would ever make him understand what he was asking me to agree to. Behind me, the bathroom door slammed, the shower turning on just on the other side of the door. I sighed and set the bottle of moisturizer down on the vanity. _Why did he have to go and do this?_ I thought staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was perfectly content with the way life was, I didn't need him paying some private investigator to track down Riley, Eric and Tyler.

Part of me understood why he wanted to do it, why he wanted to find them and make them pay. For the last ten odd years, he'd been in a relationship with a woman who could hardly bring herself to touch him, let alone anything else.

When I first met Edward, he was interning in the maternity ward of the hospital I gave birth to Callie in. Our first encounter was…interesting. He had come into my room one evening to check on me. I'd been asleep with the lights out and the door closed. The telltale click startled me awake and I laid there with the blankets clutched to my chin, huddling in the bed, too damned scared to move. As he flicked on the lights, I screamed as loud as I could. His emerald green eyes were wide with surprise, his lithe body tensed.

Five nurses and another doctor came running to see what the commotion was about. The nurse I was familiar with shushed me, talking softly to me in her attempt to calm me. Finally, they sedated me. I slept through the night and when I awoke the next morning, a pretty blonde shrink was waiting at the foot of my bed.

She asked me why I reacted the way I did. I hesitated, unsure of what would happen if I told her the truth. When the words rushed from my lips, I was powerless to stop them. She was the first person I'd actually told the events of that night to. Well, beside Mike, but really, after hearing the boys bragging in the bathroom, he knew that what they were saying was wrong. So in my book, telling him didn't really count.

The shrink, a woman by the name of Rosalie Hale, encouraged me call the police and file a report, then come back to see her for regular weekly sessions. I told her that I would think about calling the police and left it at that. When she asked me how the three of them managed to get away with raping me, especially in a town the size of Forks, I shrugged. The way Mike told it, they were telling people that I was drunk and threw myself at them, practically begging them to screw me, and that it was the quiet ones that were always the freakiest. Bree unwittingly backed up their story with her tale of how she caught us in the act. Why Mike, who knew the truth, never said anything, I never knew. Not that I talked to him enough to find out.

My last few days in the hospital, Rosalie came to see me every day. Eventually she cleared me, stating in her report that I was not a threat to my child, or myself but that I should seriously consider seeking some sort of therapy or counseling.

The day they discharged me from the hospital, I carried Callie out of the building in her second hand car seat and stood in front of the hospital watching as life marched on around me. I had no idea what to do next, where to go, how to get through the day, hell, how I was going to keep my job, pay my bills and afford daycare on a meager waitress salary.

God, if there was a God, stepped in then. The elderly woman who lived downstairs from me in the rent by the week motel I lived in ran a daycare and offered to watch Callie for practically nothing. My boss at the diner where I'd been working before I had the baby gave me my job back with the condition that if I gave him any grief or called out because of my kid he'd fire me.

It wasn't great and it sure as hell wasn't what I envisioned for myself, but it was what it was. Not that that kept me from crying myself to sleep every night and that wasn't even the worst part. I couldn't stand to look at Callie. In the hospital the nurses practically took care of her, I didn't really have to lift a finger. Not that I wanted to. She was the reason my life was so screwed up. I was supposed to love her, she was my daughter, but I didn't like her. I despised her.

I didn't want to touch her, change her, feed her. I didn't even want to be near her. Every time I looked at her I saw Riley Biers staring back at me; she had the same fair hair as he did, the same dimple in her left cheek, the same complexion. Whenever I looked at her, I felt sick and dirty and wanted to vomit. Every time I did look at her, or touch her, feed her, change her, whatever, I had to shower because I felt dirty and used and beaten all over again.

Don't get me wrong, I took care of her; I fed her and bathed her, but every time I did, it made me sick to my stomach. When I took her in for her first checkup, the doctor, who was, ironically, Edward, took one look at me and knew something was wrong. I'd lost all the baby weight and then some, my clothes were hanging lifelessly on my shrunken body.

"Have you been eating?" he asked, flashing a pen light in my eyes.

I stared blankly at the wall just over his shoulder.

"Isabella." He called my name authoritively. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

Coming out of my stupor, I looked at him listlessly and said, "I guess."

He shut off the light and slid it back into his pocket. They called it postpartum depression and gave me some drugs that were supposed to shake me out of whatever it was I was going through. I took them and of course, they helped a little bit, but there was still this underlying depression that didn't go away no matter how many pills I took.

A few months went by and things got a little better. I worked my hours at the diner, went home, fed and bathed Callie, put her in her bed, then climbed into my own where I cried until I fell asleep. Each day was the same; a mind numbing schedule that allowed me to function without thinking.

One night I was leaving the diner when this tattooed guy started to follow me across the parking lot. My heart kicked into overdrive and I hurried toward the bus stop. He kept following me, getting closer. I almost and probably would have, passed out as the overwhelming fear took over me, if a certain green-eyed doctor hadn't pulled into the parking lot.

How this man kept showing up in my life, I never knew, but I figured it to be a sign from the universe. He scared the guy off and offered to drive me home. I politely thanked him and told him I'd rather wait for the bus, he sat at the bus stop, on the opposite side of the bench and waited with me.

When the bus groaned to a stop, he told me to have a nice night and waited until I'd gotten on the bus and sat down, before he stood and walked back to his car. A few nights later, he showed up at the diner and asked me out on a date. I refused and thought I'd never see him again, but that night when I got off work, he was waiting at the bus stop.

"Nice night," he said as I sat down on the opposite edge of the bench.

That was how it all started. He would wait with me each night until the bus came, talking about the weather or about the dinner specials in the diner.

Slowly, very, very slowly, I let him in. Two years after meeting him, we went on our first date. It was Callie's second birthday and he took us to Chuck E. Cheese. A year later, when he was offered a job at a hospital in Los Angeles he asked me to come with him. By this point, I knew he wouldn't hurt Callie or me. When I asked him what he wanted in return he looked at me, appalled and said, "Peace of mind. I want to know that you and Callahan are safe and being taken care of."

I don't know what happened after that, something in me started to defrost, partly because I knew I could trust Edward. Six months after we moved to L.A., we moved in together. Another six months after that he proposed and we married in a small ceremony as the sun came up on Huntington Beach.

Edward encouraged me to go to counseling so that I could, and I quote, "finally put all those demons to rest."

I went for a few weeks, really trying to get over what happened, but all the hours spent talking about what happened that night and how it affected me and how it changed me, didn't help. In fact, it made what happened worse. Therapy was like ripping out your stitches an hour after surgery – with rusty tweezers. The nightmares came back, the disgusting feeling of being dirty and worthless plagued me, I stopped eating and sleeping, spending to choose my nights in the den with a pack of cigarettes and late night infomercials.

Then one day I just decided I wasn't going anymore. Instead, I spent the time I would have normally spent on the shrinks couch on a yoga mat. Yoga wasn't a cure all, but it sure as hell helped a lot more than therapy did. Edward knew I wasn't going anymore, but I suppose he turned a blind eye, finding it more important to pretend that I was attempting to fix my problems rather than bury them under a carefully crafted façade.

The years of our marriage went by and for a while, things were good, until they weren't anymore. I don't know when it all started, or really, what started it, but one-day things were just different. I knew he was seeing someone at the hospital; over the course of our marriage, he had discreet affairs and I was fine with it. He was getting something from them that I couldn't give him; the only stipulations were that I didn't have to hear about it and that he was as discreet as possible. It would make us both look bad if his extramarital affairs were disclosed.

I know that sounds, just…well, scandalous, I suppose. I should probably explain: Edward and I were married, yes, but we were never physically intimate. The one time we attempted physically intimacy; I had a panic attack and almost ended up in the hospital. We slept in separate rooms, in separate beds. My door was locked each night, leaving me safe and secure in my own little world.

I loved Edward with all my heart, don't get me wrong. But I just couldn't be the kind of wife he needed. He claimed to be okay with our relationship, said that what I gave him was all he needed. Of course, it turned out to be a lie and he was really quite bitter about the whole damn thing.

That's when the issue of the private investigator really started to become an issue. During our relationship, it came up sparingly, and then toward the later years it became a more frequent topic of conversation.

That was when I really started to notice that things weren't as grand as he pretended they were. One night we got into an argument and he told me that he paid the investigator to "get rid of them" because he was sick and tired of having a wife who "couldn't stand to touch him."

He thought that if the three of them were out of the picture that it would miraculously cure me and make me all better. After that night, I spent hours scouring the internet trying to find out what he'd done to them. I learned that Eric died from a heroin overdose two years ago. I remember thinking; _I hope he suffered_, as I read about it. However, as for Tyler and Riley, there was never anything in the news about them.

A few weeks and a few hundred fights later, Edward moved out of the house and filed for divorce. I couldn't believe it, a huge part of me refused to wrap my mind around it. We'd been through so much, he'd always been so patient and understanding; to suddenly give up, throw in the towel, well it was just unimaginable.

But he did. The day the papers came, I sat on the floor in the foyer crying over them for house. Victoria, a friend of mine, made me find a lawyer, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Which leads me back to where I am now, which is leaning against the front door like a love struck teenager in Forks, Washington. Jake was unbelievably amazing. The whole way home, he didn't ask a million questions or demand to know why I never went to the cops. He was a cop and that could probably be trouble, but it was in the past and for the first time since I'd been raped, I felt as if I could finally move on and start to forget about it.

I knew it wouldn't be that easy, but I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction. I sighed happily and turned to lock the door and shut off the porch light. As the front yard went dark, I noticed a car parked across the street that just looked out of place. I didn't recognize it, the dark color and tint was severely out of place here in Forks. I dropped the curtain and headed toward the stairs. As I gripped the banister, the phone rang. I hurried into the kitchen to answer.

"What did you forget Emily?" I asked as I picked up the receiver.

"Did the cop fuck you good?" a creepy voice asked.

I dropped the receiver and stared at it, my whole body shaking, the good feeling from a few seconds ago now a fleeting memory.

_Get a grip,_ I scolded myself, and_ call Jake._

I reached for the phone and hung it up, then dialed Jake's number.

"Everything okay?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

"I uh, I don't know. I think I just got a creepy phone call."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been getting these calls and I thought it was just some kids playing a prank, you know heavy breathing, stuff like that. But they just said something this time and there's a strange car parked across the street and I'm just really freaked the hell out."

"I'll be over in a minute."

"No, Jake, it's fine."

"I'll be over in a minute," he said more adamantly.

"Okay, hurry, please."

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. I lifted the curtain and smiled at Jake. "Come on in," I said opening the door.

Jake stood on the porch in a pair of grey sweat pants and a navy blue hoodie. "I'm here to slay your creepy caller," he said with an easy smile.

I laughed nervously and stepped aside allowing him access to the house. "Thanks for coming," I said.

"No problem. How long have you been getting these calls?"

I shrugged. "They started right after I moved back here; sporadic at first. They'd call every few weeks, never say anything, then just hang up. Then recently it's become more frequent, numerous calls every day, heavy breathing, you know, the normal stalker phone calls. At first I thought it was just kids being silly, then tonight they spoke."

"What did he say?"

"He asked if-" I paused, my insides shaking as the voice echoed in my head.

"What?"

"If you, um," I dropped my voice to a whisper and said, "fucked me good."

"What the hell?" He crossed the kitchen in two long strides and pulled back the kitchen curtain. Peering out into the dark night, he looked up and down the street, searching for any sign of my mysterious caller. "First thing in the morning I'm putting a tap on your phone. We'll keep track of how many times they call and hopefully put a stop to it."

"Thanks. Um, do you think you could do one more thing for me?"

Jake dropped the curtain and turned toward me. "Sure, anything, just say the word."

"Do you think you could stay here tonight. I just, I don't feel safe. You don't have to, if you don't want to, though."

"No," he said. "I'll stay. I'll hunker down on the couch."

I exhaled, instantly at ease. "Thank you. I'll go get you some blankets and a pillow."

"I have to run home real quick, but I'll be right back. If the phone rings, don't answer it. I'll be right back."

I followed him out of the kitchen and to the front door. As soon as it shut I waited for the phone to ring, but it remained silent. Quickly I climbed the stairs, still waiting for the shrill sound of the ringing phone to cut through the stillness.

I stopped outside of Callie's room and pushed open the door. She was sprawled in the center of the bed, her left foot dangling over the edge, the tinny laughter of _iCarly_ on the television. I fished the remote out of the comforter and clicked off the TV effectively bathing the room in silence. Turning my attention to my daughter, I set the remote down on the nightstand and gingerly lifted her foot, sliding it back under the comforter. Callie grinned at me then rolled over. I tucked the blankets in around her and smoothed her hair off her forehead, dropping a light kiss on her head.

At the front door, there was a soft knock. Even though I knew it was Jake, my heartbeat kicked up a notch. I slipped quietly out of Callie's room and shut the door behind me. With one hand trailing down the banister, I peered toward the front door. A shadowy shape stood on the other side. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked, his eyes lingering on my wide-eyed expression.

I nodded wordlessly and shut the door behind him, the deadbolt clacking against the metallic plate with a loud clink. "No phone calls," I informed him. "Make yourself at home, I'm going to get you some linen."

I scolded myself for not grabbing the blankets as I climbed the stairs for a second time. Wearily, I wrenched the hall closet door open and pulled a thick quilt down off the shelf. Not having any extra pillows, I decided I would give him one of mine, but not before, I put a clean pillowcase on it. I grabbed the crisp, cool cotton case and set it atop of the quilt, then shoved the door shut with a hip.

In my room, I dumped the quilt on the bed, reached for a pillow, and ripped the case off it, sliding it into the clean on. When I was done, I picked up the quilt and pillow and carried them down the stairs.

I lingered for a moment in the doorway to the living room, watching Jake. He was kneeling in front of the fireplace, carefully arranging logs and muttering to himself. I bit my lip in a vain attempt to keep from laughing.

He picked up the box of matches and lit one, the smell of sulfur filled the room before briefly vanishing as the smell of wood smoke overtook it. "Nice fire," I said from my post in the entryway.

Jake flashed a smile at me over his shoulder. "I figured it'd be a nice contrast to the phone call, you know, something warm to chase away the nasty."

Again, the sensation of normalcy washed over me, once again making me long for a life I could probably never have. How much longer could I, would I, go on like this, always wishing and wanting for things I could never have. Suddenly longing turned to anger.

I dropped the quilt on the couch and stared out the window. "It's nice, thank you."

Jake picked up the poker and pushed a log further back in the fireplace then set the poker back down in the holder and stood up, brushing the bits of bark and dirt off his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked as he crossed the living room.

I nodded, flopping down into the old La-Z-boy closest to the fireplace. I turned my face toward the warmth and let it wash over me. "It's not fair," I whispered.

Jake sat down on the end of the couch closest to me. "What's not?" he asked.

"Life," I replied. "Life is not fair." I turned to face him, tears threatening to spill. "Whenever I'm around you, I feel normal even though I know I'm not. I feel like I could have a normal life with you, even though I can't. I want to give you more than just dinner and casual hand holding, but I can't."

"Bella," he said. "I don't want anything more than what you can give. Please don't ever feel like I'm pressuring you to do anything you aren't comfortable doing."

"I don't feel that way Jake, but you don't understand, this," I motioned to the space between us, "that will always be there. There's no cuddling on the couch in front of a fire, there's no comfortable first kiss or even casual sex. I'm incapable of intimacy."

"How do you know?" he challenged. "How do you know that anything bad will happen if you come over here and sit down next to me?"

"Because it's inevitable. It always happens."

"Try," he implored. "Just try."

I shook my head no and turned my face back to the fire.

"Chicken," he called softly. I ignored him as he began making clucking sounds.

Don't get me wrong, I wanted to push myself off the recliner and snuggle up next to him, I did, but my brain refused to be swayed. But no matter what argument it came up with, we both knew that Jake was different.

With Edward, I never had the urge to be extremely close to him, never wanted to sleep with him or kiss him until we were both dizzy with lust and longing. I loved him, but it was in the way a person loves Jesus for saving them. I love Edward because he saved me from, well, from myself. He put a roof over my head and took care of my daughter and me. He loved Callie as if she was his own and he never asked for anything in return.

But Jake, well I wanted to be extremely close to him. I wanted him to kiss me until my head spun like the earth around the sun. I wanted to love him recklessly and with abandon. I wanted to love him because he made me _feel_, not because he saved me.

As I stared into the fire, a war raging inside of me, I wondered if maybe it was time to go back to therapy and really try to put the pieces of my life back together.

**-000-**

Head Full Of Doubt, Road Full Of Promise by The Avett Brothers

So, you guys totally took what happened to Bella in stride, yes, sorta anti-climactic, and quite horrible...at first, (when the story was still just an idea) she didn't want to go home because kids made fun of her in high school...{yeah, how lame is that? lol} Anywhooo...I hope that this chapter clears up some of the confusion...and if it doesn't, here's the breakdown...Edward IS NOT Callie's father...Riley is. Bella and Jake are the same age...30. Callie is ten, she will be 11 in a few months. Charlie never found out she was raped because the boys claimed the sex was consensual and Bree unknowingly backed it up.


	7. Road Full Of Promise

Chapter Seven – "…Road Full Of Promise"

The Ties that Bind

Jake

In my head, there's this list. On it are different things I'd love to know about Bella. One of them was to find out what kind of shampoo she used. Stalkerish, yes, maybe just a little, but after spending the night letting the intoxicating smell drill itself into my brain, well, what can I say. I am, after all, a man and a man can only take so much.

The sun couldn't rise fast enough in my opinion, and when it peeked through the eastern most windows, motes of dust danced in the light, twinkling like the lights on a Christmas tree in the early evening I dropped a hand over my eyes, blocking the invasive light.

I sat up, my back groaning in protest. I patted the cushion next to me and sighed. I hope that Creepy McCall's-a-lot had finally gotten harassment out of his system because I don't think my back could take another night sleeping on that couch.

All around me, the house was quiet. I stood up and went into the kitchen, searching for a piece of paper and a pen. Speaking of Bella's mystery caller, I needed to get on the horn with the phone company and figure out it the number could be traced. I wanted to take a trip to Port Angeles as well. There was someone there I wanted to see, and it wasn't going to be a social call. I found a small pad of paper in the drawer closest to the fridge. I pulled a sheet off and scribbled a quick note for Bella, propping it against the coffee pot where I was sure she would see it when I was done.

The trip into the city took a little over an hour and shortly after nine a.m. I was pulling into the crowded parking lot of the very busy P.A. Bagel Shoppe.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and still warm bagels hit me as I pulled the door open. I pushed past the patrons in line, scanning the counter for the one person I looking for. Overhead, some whiny guy with an acoustic guitar sang about wondering where his girl's always been. I tuned the annoying song out and approached the counter.

From behind the espresso machine, Mike Newton, owner and shop operator, looked up with a smile. "Coffee?" he asked, motioning a percolating pot of coffee.

"No thanks," I replied. "You got a minute though; I need to talk to you."

Mike finished with the fancy drink he was making and handed it to a petite red head. She took the cup and handed it to a woman in a pink miniskirt. Mike wiped his hands on his apron and turned to the red head. "Can you take over?"

She nodded and began making some kind of drink. Mike moved toward the opposite end of the counter and motioned for me to follow him. I bobbed and weaved between the crowds until I'd made it across the open room. I followed Mike down the hall, past the storeroom and bathroom into his office. I shut the door behind me and sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

"So my friend," he said with an easygoing smile. "What's up?"

I felt bad for what I was about to do. Mike was my friend. We had Seahawks season tickets, and went to almost every home game together. This, however, wasn't personal, and it had to be done. I folded my hands and said, "Bella Cullen, well Bella Swan when you knew her, is back in Forks-"

"She came back?" he interrupted; face white as the pure driven snow. "When, I mean how long has she been back?"

"Since the beginning of the summer."

"Oh wow," Mike murmured. "I never thought – I mean, she left so suddenly-"

"Because three assholes you went to school with raped her, but you knew that already." I bit my seething tongue and fought to keep my grip on my rapidly dissipating self-control, the fact that Mike Newton was a friend was quickly forgotten. "Someone's making threatening phone calls, and parking outside of her house, among other things. Where were you last night?"

Mike's jaw dropped. "Jake," he stammered, "you can't possibly think that I'm the one doing that. I didn't even know she was back until literally 30 seconds ago."

"You didn't answer my question," I said through gritted teeth.

"I was at home with Bonnie and the kids," he said, face still white as Casper the Friendly Ghost's. "And shit, if you're looking to point the finger at someone, how about one of those douche bags who raped her. You talked to them yet?"

I shook my head no. "One step at a time Mike. You have any idea where they are?"

Mike shrugged. "No. We didn't necessarily run in the same circles. I think one went to school in New York, last I heard Riley and Tyler went to school in Seattle. Start there."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a notebook, scribbling _Seattle_ on the first blank page before flipping it shut again. I stood up and slid the book back into my shirt pocket. "One more thing," I said reaching for the doorknob. "Stay the hell away from Bella. She has enough going on in her life. She doesn't need you coming around." I wanted to throw on, "especially since it was your fault she was attacked and your fault she went to California in the first place rather than telling her father what happened to her." However, I didn't. I yanked the door open and pushed my way through the throng of people all trying to get their daily dose of caffeine.

When I got back to the station I pulled up the national database and typed Riley's name into the search and tapped a pen against the desktop as I waited for the results. When the search finished, I scribbled information down on a notebook. He lived in Forks until the fall of 2000, then an address in Seattle for six months then after that, there was nothing. No driver's license or tickets, no back account information, no address, no nothing. It was as if he ceased to exist. I checked for a death certificate, however, there wasn't one.

I typed in Eric Yorkie's name next and found out that he was dead. I was secretly glad to read that he died in New York of what the coroner's report said was a fatal drug overdose. The police suspected foul play; however, no charges were ever pressed.

After I finished reading Yorkie's report I typed in Tyler Crowley's name and found out he was currently living in Tacoma, married with two kids. An arrest a few years back for battery and a bench warrant for unpaid parking tickets, but nothing that screamed he was the mysterious caller.

With two out of the three mysteries solved, I wondered what happened to Riley Biers. Where did he go after the spring of 2001? No one can just drop off the radar like that. He had to be somewhere. I spent the better half of the morning plugging his name into a variety of databases, coming up empty handed each time. The longer I looked at it, the longer I liked him for Bella's caller.

Nevertheless, before I could come out and tell her it was him, I needed to find out if Tyler Crowley was still in Tacoma, and whether or not he – as well as Mike – had alibis for last night. But for now, I wanted to talk to someone at the phone company to see if they could tell me the number the calls were coming from. As I was dialing the number, I had a thought. What if the person calling Bella wasn't one of her attackers? What if it was her ex-husband? It wouldn't be the first time I'd seen an ex go postal and threaten his wife. In a town the size of Forks, it was a common – almost weekly – occurrence.

When I reached a manager at the phone company, I explained the situation and waited patiently as he pulled up the records. "Chief Black?" he said after about five minutes of the worlds more horrible muzac.

"Still here," I said stifling a yawn.

"The calls are coming from a prepaid cell phone. There's no way to trace it."

I groaned and shoved my hand into my hair. "Is there a way to block the number?"

"Sure, hang on for a minute." There was a brief silence before I heard the manager say, "okay the numbers blocked. The calls should stop now. If the woman is still having problems just have her, or even you can give me a call and we'll explore alternative options."

"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate it."

Once I was done on the phone with the phone company, I called a contact I had in the Los Angeles police department who agreed to drop by the esteemed Dr. Cullen's home to find out if he had an alibi for the previous evening.

Then Bella called and offered lunch, which was where I was headed now. When I pulled into my own driveway, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch, a blue gingham apron tied around her waist, her curly brown hair pulled into a low ponytail.

My heart sighed. That was a sight that I could definitely get used to seeing ever day. As I approached, I noticed the flour smeared across her nose. "What are you making?" I asked as I climbed the stairs.

"Pie," she replied. "Baking helps me think."

Oh, I thought. Wonder what we're thinking about? Aloud I said, "I like pie."

"Well come on in then. It's cold out here."

I followed her into the house, the scent of pumpkin spice and apple pie greeted me. In the living room a fire crackled in the fireplace, pools of orange candle light danced on the mantle, some kind of acoustic music played softly on the radio in the kitchen.

"Come on," she said making her way into the kitchen.

I followed her and looked around at the mess. It looked like a bag of flour exploded everywhere. "What happened?" I asked.

Bella shrugged. "I told you, when I bake it helps me think. I had a lot of thinking to do."

"Anything you care to talk about?" I asked carefully.

Bella glanced at me. "I think," she said trepidatiously, "that its time I go back to counseling. I hate being scared all the time." She paused, picking up a cookbook from under a discarded bag of flour. "It's exhausting."

I nodded. "I can imagine," I said. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well," she said, dumping cup after cup of flour into a bowl without so much as counting or paying attention to what she was doing. "I tried to talk to someone this morning on this hotline type of thingy, but then the damn site basically told me they were too busy to talk to me, so then I got to thinking that there's really no point. I mean, I'm already screwed up beyond repair, so what the hell, why not keep on being screwed up."

She turned to the sugar and began pouring into the bowl. I had a momentary flash to that Alice in Wonderland movie. I was half waiting for her to turn and scream that I was late to tea. However, she didn't, she did, though, pick up a couple of eggs and begin cracking them on the edge of the bowl.

"But then I thought about, aw shit, I thought about everything. I thought about you and about Callie and the asshole who keeps calling me and I want so much more than to be scared. I thought about our date and how life feels right with you. I mean really. I don't know if you noticed it, but we, God I don't even know. It's like we click or fit, or whatever. Like you and I were meant to be." She stopped and looked down at the cookbook on the counter, blowing at a strand of hair that escaped from her ponytail.

"But I can't be with you if I don't get help." She stopped for a second then muttered, "listen to me, rambling about wanting to be with you. God only knows if you even want to be with me. I feel thirteen all over again."

"I want to be here," I said. She glanced up at me, her expression confused. "I'm here, now and last night, because I want to be. If you need somebody to protect you from creepy callers, I'm your guy. If you need someone to hang out and watch cheesy chick flicks with, I'm your guy. If you need someone to love, who loves you unconditionally in return, well then, I'm your guy.

"If you need someone to drive you to see the department shrink, then I'm your guy. You name it, I'll be it. All you have to do is say the words." I put the ball in her court because I suspected that her ex-husband did everything for her. He never made her do anything; never put the control in her hands. He coddled her and that's part of the reason why she never got the help she needed. On the other hand, perhaps he forced her to get help and it backfired. Who knows? Either way, she needed to figure out what she was going to do with her emotional state. I could take her to the doctor, but I couldn't make her get better, that was something she had to start on her own.

Bella wiped a flour coated hand across her cheeks, powder smeared across her cheeks. "I'm so scared," she sobbed.

"What are you afraid of?" I asked.

She shrugged, sniffling. "Reliving the past."

I got up and crossed the kitchen, standing next to her, but respecting her boundaries, and said, "I wish I had some ingenious words of wisdom. You say you're afraid of reliving the past, but it seems like, to me, you're still there. You let what happened define you. You let it become who you are. Therapy will help you let go of all that. You're still holding onto it."

I knew, and I'm sure she did too, that she wasn't afraid of reliving the past. She was afraid of letting go. The rape had become her crutch and her shield. It was her way of keeping people out. Without it, she'd have to find a new way to hide.

"You said I could talk to the department's therapist?" she asked, looking up at me with watery brown eyes.

I nodded. "I can take you to see him on Monday, if you like."

"I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that a lot."

-000-

...Road Full of Promise by The Avett Brothers

Short and sorta sweet...working on the next chapter now, hopefully I can have it ready by tomorrow...and don't feel bad for Edward..he knew Bella was a basket case and still chose to get involved with her...


	8. Out Of The Shadows

Chapter Eight - "Out Of The Shadows"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

_As promised, here is the new chapter...love to hear your thoughts, so let me know what you think :-)_

Every decision is a complicated battle between what if and reality. "What happens if I can't accomplish my goals," what if cries. "You've already accomplished things much harder," reality counters.

And back and forth they go, what if whining and reality countering. Such was the battle raging in my head right now. What if I went back to therapy and it made me even more of a basket case than I already was? What if I never got better? What if I was destined to be the girl who was raped and never got over it?

By the time I fell asleep Saturday night I felt myself equally torn in two. I knew I had to go, but I didn't want to. On Sunday, I woke Callie up early and we drove into Seattle because the foreboding feeling lingering around Forks was too damn oppressive. We spent the day strolling around Pike Place Market and even went to the Starbucks there. Callie found it amusing that that was where the phenomenon that was Starbucks started. It was late when we finally got home. As I pulled into the driveway, I discreetly checked the street to make sure there were no mysterious cars parked along the street.

At that precise moment, I knew it was time to take back my life. I wasn't setting a good example for my daughter, how could I tell her to be brave or strong if I wasn't?

At first, the thought of going to therapy was one of those things that you decide rashly. It was like one of those decisions that come after being induced by a moment, kind of like being arrested for possession of crack and vowing the entire time you're in lockup that when you get out you'll never touch the stuff again, but as soon as you're released the first thing you do is seek out that first fix. I'd fooled myself into believing that I was fine, that I'd gotten over what happened and that I didn't need help, that I was actually better off without it.

I shut the car off and gently shook Callie awake. "Come on baby girl, we're home." Callie grumbled and rolled over, her face pressed against the window. "Callie, come on."

She shot me a dirty look and reached for her seatbelt. Satisfied she was awake; I got out of the car and popped the trunk to collect our shopping bags. Callie got out of the car as I slammed the trunk, the pair of us made our way sleepily up the front walk and into the warmth of the house.

I dropped the bags in the foyer, locked the door, and trailed up the stairs behind Callie. In my room, I glanced at the alarm clock and sighed. Monday morning would be here in just a few short hours. I unbuttoned my jeans and tossed them in the clothesbasket by the closet then climbed into bed.

As usual, the alarm clock went off at seven a.m. I rolled over and smacked it, mentally willing it to cease its whiny scream. Once the silence was restored, I closed my eyes and exhaled, happy for a few more minutes of blissful silence.

A few minutes turned into an hour. When I woke up again it was quarter after eight and I could hear the school bus chugging its way down the street. I hopped up and called Callie's name. "Get up," I shouted. "We're gonna be late!" I dashed into the closet and looked around for something to wear to work.

I pulled on a pair of khaki slacks and a black sweater as quickly as I could. Hopping into the hallway, the heel of my one shoe clicking on the floorboards as I attempted to pull on the second one roused Callie out of her room still sporting a shocking bed head 'do.

I pushed her toward the bathroom. "Go," I said. "Brush your hair. We've got to go."

She grumbled under her breath as she shuffled down the hall. I hurried down the stairs and quickly pulled out a freezer bag with God only knows what in it, tossed it in the fridge then turned toward the cabinet where the Pop Tarts were stashed. I grabbed two and hurried back toward the stairs.

"Callahan Sophia, if you don't get down here in the next fifteen seconds I swear to God I will make you walk to school!" I shouted up the stairs before hurrying to find my purse. I tripped over a bag from last night and fell to my knees, hitting them on the cold, hard wood floor. I cursed at the bag and pushed myself up. As I dusted myself off, Callie came clomping down the stairs, a sour look on her face. "Are you ready?" I snapped. She nodded and picked her backpack up off the floor. I handed her a smashed Pop Tart and her coat then slipped mine on before heading outside.

I sped through the neighborhood, silently thanking God that I worked for the police department, because if I didn't I would have had about six speeding tickets. After I dropped Callie off in front of the school, I rounded the corner and stopped at the stop sign. The chiming of bells from the church across the street caught my attention. A sign on the lawn of the church proclaimed, "Staying in bed yelling, "Oh God!" does not constitute going to church." Then in smaller, black letters underneath, a support group meeting was scheduled for tonight at seven.

As I pulled through the intersection, I wondered what kind of support group it was and whether it was something that might be beneficial for me to attend. I was still undecided about therapy. I knew that I had to go, but I still didn't want to.

I was, however, sick, and tired of being the victim. I was ready to put it all behind me, but equally scared to as well. I held onto the fear, used it to protect myself; it helped keep people away, but here was this man, this incredible man who – even after hearing that I was damaged goods - still wanted something to do with me. He wasn't trying to fix me, or make me into someone I wasn't. He truly seemed like he wanted me to get better on my own. I knew he wouldn't wait forever for me to find help, but he would wait a reasonable amount of time.

Sometime over the weekend, I'd come to the conclusion that I was - am– a self-deprecation junkie. I crave situations that I know will end badly so that I could punish myself for something that happened a long time ago. Take Jake for example. I had a good feeling that if I didn't get some help and get right in the head we would end badly, and I would wallow in the grief just as I'd wallowed in Edward. I was an emotional cutter; there weren't any scars on my porcelain skin, but I'm pretty sure if you cut my chest open, my heart would be a series of puckered and pale scars flaying the smooth lines and valleys of my very human heart.

Even now, driving to the station with Boyce Avenue on the radio pleading for me to find myself, I _still_ didn't know what I was going to do. The argument in my head went something like this: go to therapy, no don't. Go, don't go.

I felt like I was being pulled in one direction, pushed in another all the while my feet were super glued to the floor and frankly, I was sick of it. I wanted a life that would be worth living, a life that – when it was over, I could look back on with pride and say it wasn't perfect, but I sure as hell lived it the best I could. I was sick and tired of feeling dirty, unlovable, and used up.

As I pulled into the parking lot of the police station, Jake was walking out the front door talking on his cell phone. I put the car into park and the line of the song caught my attention.

"_With you in time_

_There's nothing else_

_My life stands still_

_You are the will that makes me strong_

_Make me strong_

_If ever alone in this world, I know I'll always…"_

Across the lot, he looked up and, noticing my car, smiled, lifting his hand in silent greeting. I smiled and gave a brief wave back. The song on the radio continued,

"_Find me, here in your arms,_

_Now I'm wondering where you've always been_

_Blindly, I came to you_

_Knowing you'd breathe new life from within…"_

In that instant I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be free of the ties that bound me to the past. I wanted to play the violin again and I wanted to fall in love with a man and not feel like I was being suffocated from the inside out. I wanted Callie to have a normal family and a normal mother – not some weirdo circus freak who went pale if one of the dads sat too close to her at school functions.

I wanted the years that I lost back. I wanted so many things, things I'd been too scared to want before. I wanted to make love to a man and feel the love in his every touch. I wanted to hunt down Riley and Tyler and kick them in the balls about seven times for what they did to me.

As I got out of the car, Jake approached with a smile. "Good morning," he said. "How was the city?"

"It was good; Callie and I had a lot of fun. How was football?"

"Amazing," he said enthusiastically. "Still want to go see Dr. Banner?"

"Well," I said wringing my hands, "I kind of want to see a woman. Do you think he could recommend someone?"

"Sure," Jake said. "Actually, I can."

I eyed him curiously. "Who?"

"His wife. She has an office in the community hospital. I can get the number for you, if you'd like."

"Could you? That would be great." The inside of my mouth felt like the Sahara desert at noon. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and the strawberry Pop Tart I'd eaten on my way to work was making my stomach upset.

"Sure," he said. "I'll have it for you before close of business."

-000-

When I came back from lunch, there was a yellow post it note stuck to my phone with a hastily scribbled number on it. I quickly pulled it off the phone lest someone recognized the number and stuffed it into my pocket. I thought about calling from my desk phone, but again, I didn't want anyone to overhear so I retrieved my cell phone from my purse and locked myself in the bathroom before calling.

A pleasant sounding secretary answered the phone. "Good afternoon, Doctor Banner's office, how can I help you today?"

"Hi," I said slowly, trying to keep the stutter out of my voice. "I think I need to make an appointment, preferably as soon as possible."

"Okay dear, let me see when Dr. Banner will be available." There was a short pause, then she said, "I have a cancellation, we can schedule you for tomorrow at 11:15. Is that too early?"

"No," I said. "That would be great."

The secretary collected my information and ended the call with a chipper, "have a nice day."

I thanked her and hung up, my head spinning with all the possibilities. I told Jake that I would be gone tomorrow morning and went home. That night, I helped Callie with her homework, made fudge and curled up on the couch after she'd gone to bed with a book that I was only pretending to read. At eleven thirty I wearily climbed the stairs knowing I wasn't going to sleep much tonight.

And I didn't. I spent the night, tossing and turning; fear and anticipation over the upcoming day. Again, the possibilities taunted me; visions of a normal life came to life in my head, scenes where I was lying in Jake's arms right now, instead of in my own cold, lonely empty bed.

The sugar plum ideals all came to a screeching halt the following morning as I sat in my car feeling hollow and numb after my first session with the evil Dr. Banner. I walked into the hospital this morning, legs shaky, breath uneven. I found Dr. Banner's office easily and sat down in the hard plastic chair the receptionist pointed at.

Fifteen minutes, and several panic attacks, later, Dr. Banner's office door opened. She smiled down at me, a reed thin woman with thin blonde hair who looked just like Uma Thurman with fangs like a rattlesnake.

She guided me into her office and waited until I was seated comfortably before snapping the trap. "So," she said in a hushed voice, "Tell me why you're here."

From her position across from me, she crossed her legs and opened a leather bound notebook; her expensive pen hovered expectantly over the blank page. I numbly recounted the night then stared blankly at her. I don't see how this was supposed to help. "Tell me again," she ordered.

I stared at her in disbelief. "Are you some kind of sadist?" I blurted out. "I just told you about how I was raped by three assholes then chucked down a flight of stairs. Oh and knocked up, and you want me to tell you again? Screw you."

"You need to come to grips with what happened," she said. "You spit out the story so fast, like it was trivial or didn't matter. If that's the case then why are you here?"

I stared down at my lap and shrugged. "I don't know if I can do this," I whispered.

"Then leave," Dr. Banner said. "I can only do so much for you, but there's going to come a time when you have to step up and take control of this runaway cart that is your life. I can sit here right now and tell you that even though I don't know you, I know that you've let everyone else think for you, act for you, do for you, all because you've been too afraid to do for yourself. Take the reins and take back the control."

I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. I felt like she was basically telling me to get the fuck over it. So what, she was actually saying, you were raped, big deal, get over it.

"But let me tell you one thing, if you're willing to wade through the muck, and seriously commit to getting better, then you will. Only you can make yourself better. I can help, but I can't do it for you. Now if you really want to do this, I want you to make another appointment, go buy yourself a journal and start writing down how you feel. If you express your emotions instead of bottling them up, then maybe you'll find yourself really starting to heal."

And basically, ladies and gentleman, that's how therapy went. But you know what? I went back. I liked Dr. Banner's no nonsense attitude and take on life. I bought the journal like she said and wrote down what I was feeling or thinking or just whatever popped into my head.

Before I knew it, I was buying another journal and soon I had a box full of them in the attic. I took up kick boxing, and learned self defense, I even found a group of women who had all been through some kind of trauma, some suffered from domestic abuse, others were raped, some were molested, we were all united in some shape, form or fashion.

The fall melted into the winter, Halloween came, as did Thanksgiving and Christmas. Before I knew it, the New Year was knocking on our door. Every day I felt a little bit stronger, a little bit more like the person I wanted to be. Every day I grew closer to Jake, I became a better mother to Callie; I even picked up the violin and started playing again.

I was rusty and it showed, but holding the instrument in my hands again after all these years felt right. The creepy phone calls stopped and life began. For the first time in a long time, I was happy, happier than I'd probably ever been.

One evening during the first week of January, the three of us, Callie, Jake and I, were in the living room watching TV. Well, Callie was watching TV, completely absorbed in whatever it was she was watching. I was lying down on the couch with my head on Jake's lap.

"This is nice," I told him.

He smiled and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "It is," he agreed.

I sighed, content with my life. It wasn't perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than it was a few months ago. As the credits ran on the TV, Callie pushed herself up off the floor.

"I'm going to bed," she announced.

"Goodnight," I called as she headed toward the stairs.

"Night," Jake echoed.

"Nitey night," she replied.

I waited a few minutes to make sure she'd really gone upstairs. When I heard the toilet flush and her bedroom door shut I said, "She keeps asking me when you're going to move in."

Jake laughed and said, "And what did you tell her?"

"That it will be a while before anyone does any moving anywhere, that you and I are taking it slow. I don't know if she gets it, but that's what I told her." I sat up, shut off the TV, and turned on the radio. In the fireplace, a log broke sending a shower of sparkly embers up the chimney and out into the night. The heady scent of seasoned wood filled the living room with its intoxicating scent; add to that the radio and low burning candles and suddenly the mood had dramatically changed. There was an electric charge to the room that wasn't there a few seconds ago; my heart began racing in my chest. '

Jake looked at me, meeting my eyes. He held my gaze as he leaned toward me. "I want to try something," he breathed. "Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"

Hypnotized, I nodded and mumbled, "Okay."

With hands lighter than air, he gripped the sides of my face and pulled it oh so gently toward his. I felt the involuntary reflex to panic and fought it, take great pains to remind myself that I was safe. Jake must have sensed my hesitation because he stopped, his fingers pressing into my cheeks, his lips centimeters above mine.

"Remember, tell me to stop if you need to," he said, his lips brushing against mine, tickling me.

I nodded, my lips brushing his like the softest kiss of a butterflies wings. I closed my eyes slowly and took a deep breath then leaned into him. His lips molded against mine, soft and warm, pressing and prodding.

I slid my hands up and around his neck, sliding them over the back of his head where his hair tickled my fingers. Jake slid his hands back, cupping the side of my head. He pulled his lips from mine and stared down at me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and leaned toward him, anxious to try more of that. "That," I said, "was my first real kiss. I've never been kissed that way before."

Jakes jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

I nodded. "Yes. I've never been kissed."

"I want to be your last first kiss," he said and leaned down to kiss me again.

I felt like a teenager making out with her boyfriend on the couch while her father fiddled around in the basement. The rush made me giddy, it made me want more than just a kiss. I fumbled in the near darkness, reaching for the buttons on Jake's shirt.

He immediately pulled away and grabbed my hands. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying something new," I said.

"Bella, are you sure you're ready for that?"

I glanced down at my hands ensconced in his and shrugged. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I don't think we should try that until we've both had a chance to talk to Dr. Banner. There might be some things that we all need to talk about before we do that."

I pulled my hands out of his and placed them in my lap. My sudden high was abruptly gone and I felt…strange. "I guess you're right," I said.

"That's my girl," he said and dropped a light kiss on my forehead. "Don't you think for one second it's because I don't want you. If I thought giving you what you wanted was what was best at this moment, I'd have carried you upstairs myself. I just don't think we're ready for that step yet."

I nodded. "You're probably right," I told him.

"Probably. It's getting late, I should probably head home." We both stood, Jake stretching. I clicked on the lamp and headed toward the front door. "On the other hand," he said sliding on his jacket. "You can look at it this way, you didn't freak out. That's progress, right?"

"Yeah, progress." I opened the door and we stepped onto the porch. "Can I have some more progress before you go home?"

He chuckled and pulled me gently toward him. "Of course you can." And with that he leaned down and kissed me softly, his tongue rubbing against mine in a series out lazy, but oh so sexy circles. "How was that?"

"Progressive," I grinned at him.

Once more, he dropped a brief kiss on my lips and said, "good night," before jogging down the stairs.

"Good night," I replied, watching as he crossed the dark lawn, making sure he made it inside before I went back in.

As I was shutting the door, the phone rang. I quickly locked it and hurried into the kitchen to answer it. "Miss me already?" I giggled into the phone.

"No bitch," a raspy voice answered. "But I bet you've missed me."

**Songs that Inspired this Chapter:**

Find Me by Boyce Avenue (song on the radio, and a really great band)

Inevitable by Anberlin ("I want to be your last first kiss" Jake's line)

My Skin by Natalie Merchant (during the last half of the chapter)

Out Of The Shadows by Matthew Perryman Jones (chapter title)


	9. Creep

Chapter Nine - "Creep"

The Ties that Bind

Nox

I liked the darkness, it was easy to hide, and when you spent so much time living unnoticed, well the dark, it accepted you and passed no judgment. Not like some people.

Over the last few months, I'd kept to the shadows, standing just outside the light watching her change before my very eyes. She grew braver and stronger, she grew closer to that damn cop and further away from me. Then tonight, tonight she sat in her living room kissing the cop, letting him put his hands on her.

The world went black as I stood there watching from the other side of the windowpane. I waited, watching, biding my time until the pig left, then dialed her number on the cell phone.

"Miss me already?" she giggled girlishly.

"No bitch," I rasped in reply. "But I bet you've missed me."

I heard her gasp and waited for her reply, but none came. Then the light in the kitchen went out and I thought she'd hung up, but I could still hear her breathing on the other end. I smiled in anticipation, anxiously waiting for her to say something, anything.

I wanted her to curse at me, to call me names, beg me to leave her alone, something. However, she said nothing. In fact, she hung up. There was a click and the line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced down at it.

_Call ended_ the screen flashed at me. I pressed the end button and shoved the phone back into my pocket. Fucking bitch, I thought glancing up at the second floor window that was now glowing with buttery yellowy lamplight.

At the window, the curtains fluttered and Bella's face peered out, squinting into the darkness presumably looking for me. Part of me wanted to step into the light, end the game right now and watch the shock rock her body. I know who she thought I was, but when she found out it was me, well let's just say it was going to be one hell of a surprise.

Back upstairs, the curtain dropped back, the light extinguished leaving me once again in the dark. Next door, the pig's bedroom light turned on. A few seconds after that the porch light turned on, the front door opened and the cop jogged across the lawn.

He was becoming a problem, the cop. I needed to get rid of him and by get rid of him I meant permanently. Every time I turned around there he was, cozying up to Bella or comforting Bella. It pissed me off.

Like now, he jogged up the porch steps and knocked on the door. A moment later the front door opened and Bella stepped aside to allow the cop in. he closed the front door behind him. I need to get her alone, to spend time with her, just her and me. It won't be like before; there won't be other people around to steal what should have been mine.

The night of the party comes to life in my mind – yes, I was there – Outkast is blaring on the radio, the sound of people talking and laughing is almost overwhelming. I see Bella; she walks right by me as if I don't even exist. I suppose to her I didn't. Fuck, I still don't.

She would have to pay for that, for ignoring me for all those years, then for fucking those assholes then running off to California. I would make her pay, then I would make her love me. And she would. She would love me; she'd love me more than she loved that douche bag ex-husband of hers and more than the pig who followed her around.

In the living room, a light turns on, the television follows, and I creep toward the house, a ghost in the night. As I approach the window, I can hear the canned laughter of a sitcom rerun. On the other side of the wall, the pig giggles along with the television audience then, during a lull in the plot, Bella announces she is going to bed. He tells her goodnight then the room is quiet.

A plan forms in my head. Break in the back door, the cop comes to investigate the noise and meets the knife I always carry with me. It would be easy. Too damn easy actually and therefore no fun at all. The thought of killing the cop, of committing a murder so horrible that people did not dare to venture out at night in fear of running into me, made me dizzy with lust. Killing the cop was inevitable, especially if I wanted him permanently out of the way.

Upstairs, the bedroom light went out letting me know that Bella was safe and snug in her bed and her boyfriend was fair game. I reached for the knife I kept holstered at my waist, the handle of the Smith and Wesson was cool in my hand as I crept along the side of the house, heading toward the back door of the house, following the plan in my head.

The back door was probably the fastest and least conspicuous way in and out. I took the stairs two at a time, reaching into my back pocket for the pair of leather gloves stashed there. My hand slid easily into the soft gloves and once I had them on, I reached with one hand for the doorknob and the knife with the other.

Just as I suspected, the door was locked. I turned and raised elbow, preparing to break the pane of glass when suddenly the quiet black night erupted into a cacophony of whooping sirens and flashing lights. An ambulance followed by a fire truck and a couple of cop cars hauled ass down the streets.

Shit, I thought, watching as the emergency vehicles screeched to a stop in front of Bella's house.

Run, my subconscious urged, however my feet were rooted to the porch. I was so fucked. So fucking fucked.

-000-

So, have you figured out who our super creepy stalker is? This is just a quickie...I'm working on the next chapter and will have it posted sometime this week...

"Creep" by Radiohead


	10. Red In The Morning

Chapter Ten - "Red In The Morning"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

lol of course i ended it there...i had to make sure you came back to read the next chapter...lol (im just kidding...)Some of you kill me...I think I'm so clever and then you figure out all my deviousness...if you've managed to figure out who the stalker is, shhh, don't spill the beans...and if you haven't...well, keep reading...all in good time, my friends. And I have to thank you guys for the tremendous support of this story...I love hearing from you guys!

The wailing of emergency vehicles jolted me out of sleep. My eyes pooped open, alarmed at the flashing lights illuminating my room. Without a comprehensible thought, I flew out of bed, grabbing my robe off the back of the door.

"Jake?" I called, almost tripping down the stairs.

"I'm okay," he called back softly, the click of the front door sounding behind him. "It's Mrs. Robinson from across the street. She had a heart attack. They're taking her to the hospital now.

I collapsed into his arms and let out a shaky breath. "How terrible, is she going to be alright?"

"She should be," he said wrapping his arms around me. "We'll have to wait and see."

I buried my head into his chest and relished the safe feeling he provided. It was like a safe harbor; I place that I could go where no one and nothing could touch me or hurt me. In his arms, it was as if anything was possible. It was the one place where I felt the safest.

"You look exhausted; you should probably get back to bed."

I nodded, yawning. It was late and I knew that I was going to have trouble going back to sleep. After that damn phone call, I called Jake who agreed to stand another night of duty, keeping watch over my phone lines. I headed toward the stairs, reaching for the banister, taking each step one at a time. My mind immediately went back to the call. Who the hell could it be? I wondered for the umpteenth time since the calls began. Moreover, what did they want from me?

I won't lie, I was so glad when the calls stopped. I really thought that whoever it was had finally found someone else to bother. I mean I know that sounds terrible, but I was just really glad he'd decided to leave me alone. Then they started again.

I pushed open the door, gazing longingly at the bed sitting in the center of the room looking warm and inviting. I grabbed jakes hand and tugged him toward it. "Lay with me?" I asked, sliding into the cool sheets, the comforter soft and inviting.

Jake nodded and sat down beside me on the bed. "It's been a weird night, huh?"

"It has," I murmured in agreement, laying my head on his chest. "I'm waiting-"

"For what?" Jake interrupted.

"Well…" I trailed off.

"Well?" Jake prompted.

"The rule of threes. Two bad things have happened today, I'm waiting for the third."

"There's no such thing as the rule of threes. Its coincidence; coincidence and nothing else."

I stared out the window, the flashing red and amber lights hypnotizing me. "I don't know," I disagreed. "It just feels like, well, like there's gonna be one more bad thing before the night is over."

Jake ran his hand down my arm. "I don't think you have anything else to worry about; and even if you _did_ have something to worry about, you still wouldn't. I'd protect you."

I closed my eyes, relishing the safe and secure feeling as it washed over me again. I still couldn't believe how dramatically my life had changed these last few months. I was lighter, happier, free of things that had previously held me hostage. I could lay in the bed with the man I was starting to love and not feel threatened. I could laugh and be happy and not worry about what was going to happen next.

I felt like I was living in an Aerosmith song, I didn't want to sleep because I didn't want to miss a moment of this life that I had. in the last few seconds before I fell asleep the security and utter happiness washed over me, sweeping me under and swirling around me and despite being harassed over the phone by some crazy weirdo, I'd never felt happier.

-888-

A blood-curdling scream roused me from what was a restful sleep. I bolted up, as did Jake, and we looked at one another, completely alarmed. "What the hell?" he said.

"Callie," I replied hopping out of bed.

Jake followed and we rushed down the stairs. I skidded around the corner and into the kitchen stopping short. "Oh my god," I gasped. "Callie, come away from that." I reached for her arm, my fingers trembling.

"Jesus Christ," Jake gasped as he stepped into the room. "Bella, take Callie into the other room."

I pulled Callie toward me and guided her out of the room. "Come on sweet pea." With my arms still around her, I guided her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. Absentmindedly I turned the TV on and handed Callie the remote. "Stay here," I ordered. I stood and went back toward the kitchen, fear, and anger swirling together in my stomach.

The disgusting scene in the kitchen made my stomach turn. The back door stood wide open, trembling slightly in the breeze. The floor was a lake of red blood pooled in a giant circle in the middle of the room; red spray speckled the walls and lower cabinets. Bits of glass glittered in the blood from where the intruder broke in. In the center of the mess laid a piglet with its fleshy throat slit from one end to the other.

On the wall, scrawled hastily in blood was a brief, but chilling, sentence: _the cop is next._

I glanced away, my heart breaking at the tiny life that had been sacrificed to scare me. Jake met my eyes, his face mirroring mine: wide-eyed and speechless. I had so many questions but words failed me. Instinctively, I reached for the roll of paper towels and bent down to clean up the mess.

"Stop," Jake ordered. "Leave it be. Go get Callie and take her to my house. You two don't need to see this." He handed me his house keys and pushed me out of the room. "I'm going to call the station, get CSU down here, get this taken care of and cleaned up."

I took the keys, fighting the urge to cry. Crying wasn't going to stop this from happening, crying wouldn't solve anything.

"Why is this happening?" I asked as a strangled, panic-stricken cry escaped. Hysteria bubbled its way up my throat, threatening to overpower the fleeting sense of calm I'd still managed to cling to.

Jake shrugged helplessly. "I wish I knew," he said crossing the room and wrapping his arms around me. "But just like I told you last night I'll keep you – and Callie – safe. Now please go over to my house so I can call the station and have a team sent out here to check for finger prints and evidence."

I pressed my face into the front of his shirt and held on tightly. Just when things started to go good, something like this happened. I took a deep breath and released him. "Thank you," I said. "For everything."

"It's not a big deal. Now go make sure Callie is okay."

I nodded and headed out of the kitchen and away from the gruesome sight. I found Callie curled up on the end of the couch staring blankly at the television screen. She looked up when I sat down, her face wet from the tracks of her tears.

"Who killed that pig, Mom?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Jake is going to call some people and get it taken care of, though, so you don't need to be afraid or anything."

"What did it mean, the cop is next? Is someone gonna hurt Jake?" Hysterical tears filled her eyes and she clung to the throw pillow.

"No," I said. "Come on, we're going to Jake's while he cleans that mess up." It was a lie, well, for the most part. There was no way to know what lengths a person would go to to get what they wanted. And obviously, what this person wanted was me. I didn't know why yet, hell, I wasn't even sure I ever wanted to know why. Whoever it was, well they were obviously screwed up in the head and had no problem watching me or breaking into my house or killing.

The dead pig was what frightened me the most. If a human being could easily kill a small animal for their own selfish amusement then they would have no problem taking a human life to get to what they wanted. The dead pig upped the ante in my opinion. It was the, god what was he, a stalker?

Sure why not, I decided. It was the stalkers way of taking this to a newer, entirely more dangerous, level.

I hurried Callie across the lawn in case he was still out there, watching, waiting, and unlocked the front door. I don't know what I expected when I opened the front door, but for some reason the relative calm and cleanliness surprised me. I guided Callie toward the living room and the two of us curled up on the couch with the TV playing softly in the background.

We sat there all day, not talking about the scene in the kitchen, about the blood or the chilling statement. Instead, we watched a SpongeBob marathon, laughing joylessly as the annoying yellow sponge gallivanted around Bikini Bottom. At five, the front door opened, I jumped, and Jake's voice called to me. I glanced up as he entered the living room and sat down on the arm of the couch.

"Everything's cleaned up over there; you're just going to have to make a statement in the morning. I'm also having an alarm system installed, but until then you two are staying here."

"Who killed that pig Jake?" Callie asked. She looked up at him, the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

Jake sighed and looked down at Callie. "I wish I knew, sweetie, but I promise I'll figure it out. I'll find out who did it and I'll make sure they never do it again."

Callie started to cry. "Is someone going to hurt you?" she sobbed.

Jake stood and crossed to the opposite end of the couch. "I'm going to be completely honest with you okay?"

Callie nodded and wiped her eyes with the blanket.

"Someone wants to hurt me. At least that's what it looks like. But," he paused, presumably trying to connect his thoughts and introduce them to words. "But it's like this. There are people out there who, well they aren't always right in the head. Maybe that's what this person's problem is. Maybe he or she isn't right in the head and they think something that isn't true. I don't know. But what I do know is this: I know how to protect myself and the people I care about and I will protect them. I will protect you and your mom. No matter what."

Callie nodded, seemingly pleased with Jake's response. She lay back down on the couch, visibly more relaxed. Jake patted her shoulder and stood, motioning for me to follow him. I stood up and followed him into his tidy kitchen.

"We found some finger prints and a few hairs, but there's no way to know just yet who they belong to, if they even belong to the weirdo who broke in."

I nodded. "Okay," I said slowly. "How long will it take before we find out who they belong to?"

"We'll know in a few days. There's something I have to go do, but before I do it, there's something I need you to know."

I swallowed hard. Here it was the other shoe. It fell and slapped against the proverbial floor with a resounding echo. "Whatever it is," I told him, "I don't think I want to know. Are you sure you really have to tell me?"

Jake nodded, looking down at the floor. "I do. I- shit." Jake ran his hands through his hair. "I think I have an idea of who is making those threatening calls and who broke into your place last night."

I gaped at him. "You do? Who?"

Jake ran his hands through his hair. "I think it might be someone you –and I- know."

Confused, I stared at him. Someone he and I both knew. We don't know any of the same people, what the hell was he talking about? I thought. "Jake," I said finding my voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Jake swallowed, the muscles in his neck contracting and expanding. "You had a friend in high school that I'm friends with now. I think he's the one who's stalking you."

I stared at him as the realization sunk in. He was talking about Mike. Jake was friends with Mike Newton. All this time, all these months, he'd been friends with Mike Newton and never told me. My face burned as if I'd been slapped and I backed away from him.

"Bella, wait," he said reaching for me, grabbing my wrist before I could flee the room.

"I haven't talked to him since you and I started getting serious. It's been months since I've talked to him. I know I should've told you but-"

"But what?" I interrupted with a hiss. "You just all of a sudden decided it was a good time to finally tell me this? If you didn't think Mike was the one harassing me then you probably never would've told me, huh?"

"I was going to tell you," he said defensively, "I just didn't know how. Here it is, a guy who pretty much fed you to the wolves is my friend now. How was I supposed to tell you that?"

"I don't know, but I think it's pretty shitty you wait until something like this happens, until some crazy ass kills a pig in my kitchen to tell me your friends with him. I'm going into the living room, please, just – just let me have a few minutes to digest this tasty little nugget."

Jake nodded, leaning against the counter as I walked out of the room. I stood in the hallway trying to wrap my head around the fact that my Jake was friends with someone from my past. Not only that, but he thought it was Mike who was harassing me. I turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

"You think Mike Newton is the one who broke into my house last night?" I stated.

Jake nodded. "I do."

"Why, what proof do you have?"

"It's a gut feeling," he said with a shrug.

I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor waiting for more than, "it's a gut feeling."

"What?" he said looking at me.

"All this crap that's happening and your only reasoning is that it's a gut feeling? I mean, I could understand if you saw his car on our street or you found his hair or fingerprints."

"I went to see him after our date. I basically told him to leave you alone and stay away from you and the calls stopped."

"Yeah, and now they're starting again. Why would he stop when you told him to and then just start up out of the blue again? It doesn't make sense."

"I know it doesn't," Jake said. "That's why I have to go down to Port Angeles. I have to find out if he has an alibi for last night. If he doesn't then he's going to the top of my suspect list."

I shook my head. "This is, excuse my French, fucking ridiculous."

Jake's jaw dropped, he'd never heard me say the f-word. I shook my head again. "Well it is. Why wait all this time to be a total freak-a-zoid and start this crap now? I just don't get it, you know what I mean?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Fifty millions questions why and only '_the cop is next'_ to go off of."

I nodded. "Promise me you'll be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I promise," he said, crossing the room. With the gap between us bridged, he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my friendship with Mike before."

"Its okay," I said leaning my forehead against his chest. It really wasn't though. I wanted to be mad at him, but considering everything that had just happened it seemed a little silly. I could die tonight and being mad at him would have been how I spent my last day alive. It was trivial. Yeah, it was sneaky of him not to tell me until now, but it wasn't as if he went out and became friends with Mike on purpose. They were friends long before he knew me, which, I guess, made it better. Not okay, but better.

As for Mike being my stalker, well, I didn't buy it, but then again I didn't take Riley for a rapist either. If I'd learned one thing during my life it was that people are seldom who they appear to be. And with that little nugget of information in mind, Mike could very well being the nut job killing farm animals in my kitchen, only time would tell for sure.

-888-

A few days after the pig incident, an alarm company came out and wired the house up nice and tight. The tech showed me how to program the panel and helped me choose a code all before showing me how to operate the system.

The crime scene samples came back with one hit in the system: Mike Newton. Jake, along with the Port Angeles police, picked him up and brought him up to Forks. The night after he was arrested, Jake came over looking frustrated and tired.

He sat down at the table looking like he wanted to punch something. "I don't get it. If you have an alibi, then say so; don't sit in the interrogation room for almost nine hours giving me some bullshit ass runaround."

I set down the plate I was drying and turned to him. "What are you talking about?"

"Mike," he said exasperatedly. "Nine hours in the interrogation room and he still refuses to give me his alibi."

I sat down across from him and gently put my hands on top of his. "Have you talked to anyone who knows him? Is he married? Maybe his wife can tell you his alibi."

"His wife says she doesn't know where he was. She says they got into a fight and he left around seven thirty. She didn't see him again until five o'clock the following evening."

"Ooh," I said. "That's bad, then, huh?"

Jake nodded and ran his hands through his recently cut hair. "Very."

"So what happens now?"

"I have to file charges against him. He'll go to court and home if someone posts bail. If not, then he's stuck in jail until his hearing."

"Do you think he did it?" I asked.

Jake nodded. "His fingerprints were on the pig. How did they get there if he didn't do it?"

I shrugged. "I guess we'll see," I said.

"I guess we will."

-888-

"Red In The Morning" by The Gaslight Anthem


	11. Without a Clue

Chapter Eleven - "Without a Clue"

The Ties that Bind

Jake

Close your eyes and think about the typical cop show. Any one will do. Can you see it? There is that low-lying haze, swirling around the atmosphere giving the cops that hard, crinkly-eyed expression. They stare down at a chain smoking perp who looks properly distraught and equally innocent.

He typically runs his hands through his hair several times during the interview, props his elbows on the edge of the table gripping his scalp all the while proclaiming his innocence. Oh and don't forget the ridiculously clichéd good cop, bad cop shtick.

Yeah, it doesn't really happen like that. First of all, there was no smoking anywhere in the building. If the fire marshal caught you smoking, you could count on one helluva fine. And the good cop, bad cop routine was for the birds, if even they were that damned stupid.

"Mike," I said, exasperation lacing my voice. "All you have to do is tell me where you were that night."

We'd been going at this for almost four hours. He sat across the table from me, purple circles under his eyes, his hair a greasy matted mess on his head.

"Jake," he said dragging his bloodshot eyes to mine. "I didn't break into Bella's house. I didn't kill a pig and I sure as hell didn't write on her wall in blood. You know me better than that."

I shrugged and returned his gaze. "I thought I knew you, but really Mike, you can't eve answer a simple question. All I want to know is where you were Sunday night."

"Man if I could tell you I would."

"Why cant you?"

He sighed and said, "It would kill my wife."

"Right and you going to jail is definitely going to be a spa weekend for her."

"Look," he said running a hand through his hair. "Whatever it is you think I did, I didn't."

"We found your fingerprints at the scene," I informed him.

"Yeah well, did you ever stop to think id been set up?"

I snorted. "No Mike, I don't think you've been set up. Who the hell would want to set you up? What reason would they have?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" he exploded. "You're the goddamn cop; you figure it the fuck out!"

"Don't worry," I said rising. "I plan on it."

I let myself out of the interrogation room and walked down the hall toward my office. Spread out on a whiteboard was all the information pertaining to the case. Names and dates and pieces of information were all laid out in sequential order, where all the pieces were waiting to be made a whole. I sat down on the edge of the desk and stared at the board, my mind trying to fit all the pieces together, to figure out the answer at the center of the mystery.

From their place at the top of the board Riley, Tyler and Eric's faces all stared back at me. The events of today had to have started with the three of them and the rape. I knew for sure that Mike was at the party that night and I knew that he was aware of what happened that he even helped Bella come up with a good reason to leave Forks and he supplied her with a place to go.

I moved on to the next face tacked to the board, the ex-husband. They met in California, married, and subsequently divorced. He knew about the rape, he knew who did it; he had tried to track down the three culprits much to Bella's dismay. Sometime after that, they divorce. According to Bella, she hasn't heard from him since the divorce.

Listed next, in chronological order were the dates of the calls, what the caller said, estimates of what time the calls were made. It was strange, the calls were so sporadic and all over the place. A call made in August at seven a.m. and then silence for over a month until a call in mid-September.

The calls, whatever their intent, did not make sense. There was no pattern, no rhyme, or reason to their inconsistency. Maybe that was his plan all along; make completely erratic phone calls just because. Maybe there _was_ no pattern, maybe that was the point.

I shook my head and focused on the latest piece of the puzzle, the tiny piglets ashen face stared back at me, its dark brown eyes glassy, deaths mask casting a waxy glow on its pink skin. In the next photo, the dripping red phrase caught my attention. That was directed at me; it made me feel a little uneasy. Obviously, someone had an issue with my relationship with Bella, and he wanted me to know that, but really, if there was any validity to the threat, the pig would have ended up in the kitchen a long time ago. That night was not the first night I'd slept at her house and we'd been together for a while now, so in my eyes the point of slaughtering a helpless animal was just to scare us.

For some reason though, I wasn't completely convinced Mike Newton had done any of this. I wasn't thinking that because he was my friend, I just didn't get that vibe from him. Nothing about him, or his life, screamed crazy-break-into-your-house-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-kill-a-baby-pig-then-write-threats-on-the-wall-in-blood-psycho. Something about the case was just wrong. It was as if there was this one piece of vital information was missing and no matter what I did, I could not put my finger on it.

Perhaps it was the fact that I'd been unable to locate Riley, Eric was dead, and Tyler had an alibi for Sunday night. Mike, despite his proclamation of innocence, was the only other person who had connections to that night that couldn't validate his whereabouts, which led me back to the ex-husband. Was it him? Did he decide that he invested too much time and effort into Bella's recovery, drive up to Forks only to find her in the arms of another man and snap?

No, I decided. The calls started long before Bella and I became romantically involved. They started soon after she came back to Forks, her phone records showed a sporadic pattern of calls from the same number, which turned out to be a prepaid cell phone, each of which only a few seconds long.

But for some reason I just couldn't wrap my mind around Mike as the perp. the nagging feeling gnawed at my stomach until the pictures and words on the board blurred together. I needed to get to the bottom of this, find out if Mike really was the stalker and if he wasn't I needed to find out who was and why. And I needed to find out what happened to Riley Biers. He was the only other person I could think of who could have had something to do with this case. But he was still missing and no one, not even his family, knew where he was.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. This was utterly pointless and so I stood and decided that I was done for the day. I picked up my keys and headed out of the office. "I'm heading out," I called to the deputy at the front desk and pushed open the door of the station.

The afternoon was gloriously bright; I squinted against the brilliance and headed toward the car. Bella was at home, probably pacing the kitchen waiting to hear if Mike finally confessed to terrorizing her or not. I got into the car and headed home.

**-000-**

I found Bella in the kitchen when I finally got home. She looked exhausted yet relieved. "Did he confess?" she asked, rushing into my arms as I entered the room.

I exhaled and slowly shook my head no. "He says he's being set up, that he didn't do it. I asked him where he was that night and he told me he couldn't tell me because it would kill his wife, so for all I know he was here."

Bella nodded and released me. "Well," she said brushing her hands on her apron, "if he won't tell you where he was, it's probably because he was here." She paused, opened the spice cabinet, and blindly felt around. "I just don't understand why he's doing it. What if it's not him?" She stared at me, her brown eyes as wide as saucers.

"It's got to be him," I assured her. "His fingerprints were on the pig's body. I agree with you, I don't know why he's doing it, but if it's not him who else could it be?"

Bella shrugged. She pulled a bottle of almond extract from the cabinet and set it down on the counter. "I don't know. Have you found Riley yet?"

"No," I said. "We haven't. There's no one else it could be? Your ex-husband, or someone you had a problem with in L.A. or even someone you had a problem with in high school?"

She tilted her head to the side and stared off into space, silently pondering the question. "No," she finally said. "I kept mostly to myself in high school. I think Mike was one of my only friends. I had a problem with Riley, Tyler, and Eric in high school, but only because of what they did to me. Oh and Bree, but I don't think it's her who is doing all this. In L.A. I kept mostly to myself. The friends I had there were Edwards friends. And as for Edward as the culprit, it's not likely. It was his idea to divorce me, he was finished with the relationship, there's no reason why he would start bothering me now."

I nodded everything she just said made perfect sense. Except for Bree Tanner, we never checked up on her. Maybe it was high time I found out what she'd been up to.

**-000-**

The following morning I made the long drive to Seattle with nothing but the radio to keep me company. I glanced at the file on the passenger seat beside me. The face of a teenage girl peered back at me from the black and white photocopy of a high school yearbook photo.

I knew it was a long shot, visiting Bree. She didn't have anything to do with the attacks and the calls; I knew that for a fact. She was probably angry with Bella for what she thought happened, but to seek revenge now just seemed pointless.

This fact was confirmed when she opened the front door, greeting me warmly. "Good morning Chief," she cooed in a high-pitched voice. "Please come in. Excuse the mess, the kids like to take advantage of the fact that I'm distracted." She motioned her very pregnant belly and waddled into the kitchen.

"What mess?" I joked in response and followed her to the kitchen.

"You're too clever," she laughed. "Please, have a seat, would you like a cup of coffee?"

"If it's not too much trouble," I said.

Bree carried two mugs of coffee to the table, handing me one as she sat down. "Thanks," I said, accepting the cup.

"Not a problem. Now tell me, what can I do for you?"

I stared down at the coffee, trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation. I took a deep breath, looked up, and said, "Did you know Bella Swan in high school?"

Bree pursed her lips and nodded. "I did." She looked down at the table, staring at it quietly. A few minutes of silence passed. Upstairs something crashed and the delightful shrieking of Bree's two boys travelled down the staircase. Shaken out of her stupor, Bree looked up. "I feel awful for what I did to her in high school." Tears brimmed in her dark eyes. "If only I'd known, I never would have-"

I reached out and gently placed my hand on top of hers. "It's okay," I said. "You were young, you had no idea. Anyone else in the same situation would have done the same thing."

Bree shook her head no. "I was awful. I spread all those nasty rumors about her, then she just stopped coming to school. I heard she went to California."

I nodded. "She did, but she came back last summer and now she's being harassed by someone. They broke into her house this past weekend and left a dead animal in her kitchen. I'm trying to find out if anyone from high school held a grudge against her, or if she had issues with anyone."

"We had our issues, you don't think that I had something to do with that?" she asked indignantly.

"Absolutely not," I assured her. "I'm just trying to get a feel for the past. You were there; you went to school with her. Think about it, is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt her now for something that happened in the past?"

"God, I don't know. I mean, Bella and I, well we didn't exactly run in the same social circles. From what I remember, she pretty much so kept to herself. She was friends with that blond kid with the name like the cookies, you know, Fig Newtons. I just can't remember his first name."

"Mike," I supplied.

"Yes." She slapped the table. "That's his name, Mike Newton. They were friends. Other than him though, I have no idea."

"Well, if you can think of anyone else who might have had a problem with her, give me a call." I pulled a card out of my shirt pocket and handed it to her. "If think of anything at all, even if it seems trivial, please let me know."

Bree took the card and nodded. "If I remember anything at all I'll give you a call."

"Well, thank you for your time," I said. "I appreciate you talking to me."

"Oh no problem, anything to help."

We both stood, I was headed toward the door when Bree said, "Please tell Bella I'm sorry. I was a stupid girl who thought she was in love. Turns out I was wrong."

I nodded when a thumping on the stairs caught my attention. I turned to look as a boy came jumping down the stairs, a second, younger, darker haired boy followed him.

"Mom I'm hungry," the older boy whined.

I stared at him feeling like id been sucker punched. The boy looked like Callie. A lot like Callie. I looked from the boy to Bree, back to the boy.

"Like I said, I was wrong." Her voice caught on the last note and tears shimmered in her eyes. She whisked them away quickly, muttering, "Damn pregnancy hormones."

"One more question." Bree looked up, her eyes red. "What ever happened to him?"

"Riley?" she whispered.

I nodded. Bree shrugged. "I don't know. He left for college and I never heard from him again. Maybe he's dead, maybe he pulled that stunt with the wrong girl, and she killed him. Hell, maybe he killed himself, or maybe he's running around raping unsuspecting women, I don't know and I don't really care."

"Thank you for your time," I said and let myself out of the house. So let's see what I knew now that I didn't know before. Riley had a violent streak. Riley liked to rape women. He raped Bella, he raped Bree, hell maybe even other women. I still didn't know where he was, whether or not he was alive and I still didn't have any new information about the case.

On the drive back to Forks, I decided that maybe there was no case. Maybe Mike was the culprit. Maybe this was no complicated whodunit case and that the right bad guy was the one I currently had locked in a cell. Maybe the nightmare was behind us and we could finally start a life together.

Just maybe.

**-000-**

Without a Clue by Matthew Perryman Jones

**Some of you have already figured out who the stalker is, has anyone else figured it out yet? Lol and I loooove reading your guesses (some of them are pretty nifty and make me jealous...I'm like damn, wish I would have thought of that!) **


	12. Breathe

Chapter Twelve - "Breathe"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

"Callie has a brother," Jake announced as he unclipped his gun from his belt. The clip slid smoothly out of the gun and was placed on the table where it made a soft thud.

I turned to Jake and gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

He glanced up and repeated, "Callie has a brother. Well, more like a half brother. I went to see Bree Tanner this morning. She's got two kids, a third on the way and her oldest bears a remarkable likeness to Callie."

I set down the dish I'd been drying down and threw the damp towel over my shoulder. "I don't understand. Why did you go see Bree Tanner? I thought everything with the case was finished. I thought the DA was about to file formal charges against Mike."

"It is and they are," he said as he crossed the kitchen and retrieved the gun case from atop the refrigerator. "There are just a few loose ends that need to tied up, things I want to double check because an innocent man going to jail will not rest easily on my conscience."

"I understand that," I replied shortly. "I just want to make sure that I know what's going on, I hate being in the dark. So just to be clear, Bree Tanner is a loose end?"

Jake nodded. "So is Riley Biers. Even if he had nothing to do with Mike stalking you, he's still a missing person. It's my job to at least attempt to find him, and when I find him I'm going to file at least two rape charges against him."

"Two?" I echoed.

Jake nodded. "You and Bree and anyone else who comes forward saying he did the same thing to them."

"So Bree's son…"

Jake nodded. "And Callie. Poor Bree, I feel for her. She feels bad for what she did to you."

"Poor her," I muttered finding it hard to feel sympathy for someone who helped destoy my life even if the same thing happened to her. "Did she tell you anything useful?"

"No," he said. "Bree doesn't know what happened to him, she thinks maybe he tried to hurt the wrong girl and got himself into trouble."

"Like arrested?"

"No, like dead. He's not in the system, I checked."

"Oh," I said. This was rapidly starting to spin out of control and it was becoming too much for me. If I had known that coming back to Forks would have caused this much trouble I never would have come back. I would have taken Callie somewhere, anywhere, far, far away from here. It was too late now, Pandora's Box had been opened, and all her evils had spilled forth.

Jake cocked his head to the side and stared at me. "What are you thinking about over there?"

I swallowed and glanced up at him. I couldn't tell him that I wished I'd never come back, it would hurt his feelings because if I'd never come back I never would have met him and I never would have taken the steps to get help. Like the help even really helped. Jake and I were like really good friends who kissed and made out every now and then. And sex? Yeah forget it. I still couldn't get to that point. Even thinking about it freaked me out.

"Bella?"

"Sorry," I said shoving the negativity out of my mind. "I just wish this would hurry up and be over already. I'm sick of being anxious and scared all the damn time." I turned and walked back toward the sink where the rest of the dishes were waiting to be finished. I plunged my hands into the soapy water and fished out a slippery dish.

Jake crossed the kitchen, his boots falling heavily on the wooden floor with each step. He stood behind me and wrapped his hands around my waist. With his lips at my neck he said softly, "It will be soon enough, you just have to hang in there for a little bit longer. Pretty soon this'll just be a bad memory."

I didn't buy it. I wasn't the kind of person who easily forgot things. It wasn't my nature. I was a runner, not a fighter, I ran away when things got to be too much and right now, I was battling a serious case of fight versus flight. I wanted to pack a bag, throw it, and Callie, into the car, and drive far, far away from here.

Jake nuzzled my neck, "You know that right?" His breath was warm against my cool skin. I nodded and rinsed the dish. "I'm going to go shower and change. Maybe we can go out to dinner and take Callie to see a movie."

"Sounds good," I mumbled even though it really didn't.

* * * -000-

The next morning I went to see Dr. Banner for my weekly appointment. She looked at me strangely, as I sat down across from her. I settled into my usual seat and stared down at my hands. She waited until I was settled completely before she asked me, "What's going on?" Concern and something else, lacing her voice.

"I'm so sick of all this," I said, teeth gritted. This morning had been the worst so far. I turned on the TV while making Callie's lunch. On the news they were talking about the case, Mike's wife was weeping for the interviewer, crying about me and how I was ruining her and her children's lives. I wanted to drive to Port Angeles and strangle the woman. Did she not realize what kind of man her husband was? Did she not realize that his actions had affected my child?

"Sick of what?" she asked.

"All this, the Mike thing, the rape thing, Forks...I'm sick of it. Every time I turn on the television, there's so sugar frosted bimbo talking about it, or worse, Mike Newton's wife calling me a home wrecker and saying derogatory things about me. I just want, I want it, I want to...shit I don't even know. I just want to get away. I don't want to hear about it anymore, I'm tired of hearing about it on the TV and its all Jake talks about. I'm so frigging over it. I just want it to stop and I want it to be over already."

"You're angry," Dr. Banner observed.

"You're damn right I am," I shot back. "I'm sick of all the crap and I'm about to have a selfish moment, but why the hell is this happening to me? Why can't I just have a normal life, with my daughter and a decent man? And don't you give me some psychobabble bullshit."

"This is your life," she said with a smile. "This is normal for you."

"No, this is not normal," I retorted. "This is fucked the hell up."

Dr. Banner snorted softly. "So what are you going to do about it?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Part of me wants to just get away for a few days, you know, drive down the Oregon coast and find a nice little seaside town to spend a few days in until I feel like I can handle this again."

"So what's stopping you?"

"Huh?" That was definitely not the response I expected from her. Dr. Banner was a 'stay and stick it out' kind of person, not a 'go for that vacation you so desperately want to take' kind of person.

"When's the last time you actually relaxed, when you did something just for you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do this for yourself, and take Callie. Reconnect with her, spend time with her, relax, rejuvenate. Your body, mind, and spirit will thank you for it."

"So you're actually telling me to take my daughter and ditch town in favor of spending a few days on the beach?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. In fact, I'm ordering you to do it. Go and relax, don't think about the rape or Mike Newton. Think about you and what you need to do to finally stop carrying around all this emotional baggage, reconnect with Callie, find out what's going on in her life and come see me when you get back and if you need anything at all, feel free to call me."

"Okay," I said. "I will. Thank you for all your help."

Dr. Banner smiled warmly. "It's my pleasure. I hope that this little trip helps clear your head and that when you get back you're rejuvenated and ready to face the things that are to come."

On the drive home, I thought about what Dr. Banner said. She actually condoned me leaving town for a few days, which shocked me. Normally she was the kind of person who wanted me to face my fears, to stare the devil in the eye and not even show the slightest tremble of fear.

Maybe it's a trick, I thought as I pulled into the driveway. Maybe she's telling to go out of town because she thinks that's what I want to hear and by her agreeing with me, she thinks I won't do it.

No, the slightly more logical part of my mind argued. That's ludicrous. She said go out of town because it's a good idea, you need to relax.

I had to agree. I did need to relax; these last few months had just been too damn stressful. So I'll go, I decided. I'll find some nice, interesting, little place and Callie and I can go relax for a few days.

I shut the car off and climbed out, heading up the front porch and into the house. I thought about the beach, but as flurries of snow drifted down from the sky, I decided against it. It would be pointless to go to the beach if we couldn't enjoy it. I'd just have to Google and see what I could find.

What I found piqued my interest. A ranch in Sisters, Oregon where we could ride horses and hike to our hearts desire. I didn't see Callie or me hiking much, but riding horses was definitely something that we could both do and have a lot of fun doing.

I clicked the link to make reservations, setting our arrival date for two days from today and paid for the trip. It was a bit more than I could really afford, but Dr. Banner said it was what I needed so I did it, transferring the money from the savings account to do so.

When Callie got home from school, I told her about our trip. "You're really going to let me miss a week of school?" was her response.

I nodded. "Do you not want to go?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I want to go; I just didn't think you'd want me to miss school. What about Jake, is he going to?"

"No," I told her. "This is just for you and me. We need to take a break and relax, just the two of us."

"When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow, so go think about what you want to take with you. We'll be gone for a week, so make sure you pack enough clothes and stuff."

"Okay," she said and charged up the stairs.

I sat down and waited for Jake to get home. He was going to be upset, that much I knew. The trip was only supposed to be for a week, but maybe if things went well I would stay longer, maybe permanently. I needed him to be okay with that, to understand that I was going away because I had to, because if I didn't I would never be me.

I was leaving to get myself back because for too long I'd depended on other people to protect me, to keep me safe and sound and I'd never learned to depend on myself. The realization - that all of my adult life I'd lived swaddled in a cocoon built around me by men whose only flaw was caring for me too deeply - was profound, I never looked at it that way before. I was too dependent on other people and that's probably why I never got better, why I never dealt with being raped.

A little after four, the front door opened and Jake walked in. He found me in the living room where I'd been waiting for him. "Hey babe," he said dropping down on the cushion beside me. The couch sank under his weight and I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "How was your day?"

I took a deep breath in preparation. "It was good. I have something I want to talk to you about though."

Jake's face instantly changed. "What happened?"

"Tomorrow Callie and I are leaving Forks-"

"You're leaving town?" he interrupted.

"Only for a little while," I continued. "I need to clear my head and work through some things on my own."

"Bella," Jake said, running his hands through his hair. "I don't understand, I thought things were okay, I thought you were okay, I thought we were making progress." He paused, his eyes a storm of confliction, pain and confusion. "I thought we were happy."

"I _am_ happy," I told him. "But I'm not okay Jake. I'm far from okay. I let the past oppress me, I let it be my burden, and it needs to stop."

"Let me help-"

"No Jake, no. because that's exactly the problem. I let everyone else help me but never helped myself. This is just something I have to do on my own."

"Let me see if I've got this right," he said standing, getting angry. "We've gone through so much, dealt with so much, started to get past so much and now you're telling me that you're leaving, you're leaving Forks, and more importantly, leaving me?"

I stood as well, squaring my shoulders, fighting the tears that wanted to spill. He was taking this all wrong and I had no idea how to make him see it my way so I did the only thing I could think of. I looked him in the eye and said, "Yes. This is something I have to do. I have to figure out who I am so that I can be the best woman for you."

"I like the woman you are," he said petulantly.

"Screwed up and dysfunctional?" I said.

"Whatever Bella, if that's how you see yourself."

"I don't understand why you're acting this way," I retorted. "It's not like I'm leaving and never coming back. I'm taking my daughter on vacation for a week, we're going to ride some horses and drink cocoa in front of a fire. If you can't handle that then maybe you and I aren't really as good as we thought." I stuck my chin out defiantly, refusing to back down.

"Fine," he said, relenting. "Leave, just call me and let me know you made it okay."

With that, he quietly left the living room. From where I stood, I heard the front door open and shut and just like that, he was gone.

A/N: Okay, okay PLEASE do not freak out...if you've read any of my previous stories, you know I don't ever do anything because I want to be mean or what not (basically I always have a reason for doing what I do.) So please no rioting in the reviews...we are, however, getting close to finding out (for those who haven't figured it out) if (or who) the real stalker is. ooh and did you guys hear the awesomeness? Kennedymommy3 wrote a kick ass review of the story over at Phase Fics, you can read it here: http : / phasefics . com / 2010 / 08 / 30 / the-ties-that-bind / and the week of awesomess continued when I got an email from Pavarti & WolfGirl-JB letting me know that Full Circle was nominated for nominations for the JBNP awards for Highest Hanky Count (Saddest Story). Which is also super cool too. I didn't know they did awards at JBNP. Check out and congratulate your other favorite authors who were also nominated: http : / jacobblack-n-pack . blogspot . com / 2010 / 09 / more- finalists- announced . html?zx = 1f917f8134414e78 and now that I officially sound like a PSA, leave me a review (pwease) or not (you can riot if you want too). Till next time lovelies.

Breathe by Anberlin


	13. When She's Gone

Chapter Thirteen - "When She's Gone"

The Ties that Bind

Jake

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight stuff...**

**Okay...so because I'm totally awesome (lmao, just kidding) but no for reals..because some of you "think" you know who the stalker is, ohemgee do i have one helluva twist coming your way. Anywhoo...here's the new chapter...working on the next one currently...should be done soon (hopefully.) so without further ado...**

**-000-  
**

The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon as Bella's red Volvo backed down the driveway, its taillights forging a path in the lingering darkness. I stood in my kitchen window watching, the last swallows of what was a steaming cup of coffee in my left hand, the flimsy cotton curtain in my right.

She didn't even say goodbye. That stung. I didn't pretend to understand her desperate need to ditch Forks and hide out somewhere far away from here for a while. I thought we were doing so well, I thought we had made serious headway into our life together.

I guess thought, thought wrong and here I was, standing in the dark kitchen all alone. As the Volvo disappeared around the corner, I let the curtain drop back into place and made my way toward the sink where I dumped out the remaining coffee.

_I need a run_, I thought, heading toward my room to change. Nothing made sense right now. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. Seven days, she'd said. What did she hope to accomplish in a week? I wondered. It wasn't as if she could change her whole perspective in a week, she couldn't change the past or make it come undone, like a ribbon pulled from a little girls braid, freed and allowed to blow away on the breeze.

Whatever Bella was running from would still be here when she came back. This would still be the place where she was raped; this would still be the place where she was stalked. This would still be the place of unimaginable suffering. Nothing, not even a week in the mountains, could change that.

In my room, I fumbled around in the drawer for a pair of running shorts, pissed because I couldn't find them in the dark. It would have been easier to turn on a light, but that would have alleviated some of the anger and right now, I needed it. When I finally found the shorts, I yanked them from the drawer, then pulled them on, grabbed a t-shirt out of the laundry basket at the foot of the bed and took to the stairs.

After I pulled on my shoes, I stepped into the misty morning. The sky was the color of depression, bleak and gray; cluttered with clouds swollen with the promise of rain much heavier than the light mist that currently swirled in the air. I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath, exhaling all the negativity floating around in my brain.

As I passed Bella's house, I looked up at the empty dwelling, missing her already. I couldn't help but wonder again what she hoped to accomplish during her stay in Oregon. Then I wondered why it bothered me so much, her wanting to go out of town.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn't ask me to go along. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't feel secure with our future. We didn't have a plan; we didn't even have a label. We were just two people bumbling through life together, our existence together marked only by a random dinner here, a night spent sleeping beside her there.

For the first time ever, I wondered where we were going – what we were doing. Was I waiting for her to get better, all the while secretly hoping that when she did, she'd choose me? Was I just some kind of placeholder, someone to chase the darkness away from an otherwise empty existence?

Maybe it was a good thing she went out of town, I thought, because she's not the only one who has some things to figure out. It's a funny feeling when you find out everything you thought you knew turns out to be a clever crafted piñata just waiting to be bust open.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind and focused on the road stretched out in front of me. She kept creeping back in though. She'll be back, my mind whispered. No matter what is, or isn't, going on between you two, she cares about you. She'll be back, just give her time to deal with whatever is going on in her head. You should be proud of her for fighting back, even if she chooses to do it from Oregon. She's not burying in her head in the sand and pretending her issues don't exist, she's aware of the problem and she's looking for a way to fix it. Give her time and stop being so mad. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started getting involved with her. Granted, yes, the stalker bit was unexpected, but you knew she was damaged goods. Deal with it or put the dented can back on the shelf and move on. Those are your two options here, slick.

And my subconscious was right. Let her handle her business and deal with it, or give her up and move on, those were my options and there was no way in hell I was going to give her up. As I rounded the bend in the road, I saw my house waiting up ahead. I charged toward it, enjoying the burn in my legs and lungs.

As I reached the driveway, I slowed and eventually came to a stop, huffing and puffing as I caught my breath, the cold cutting like shards of glass in my lungs. When she calls tonight, I'm going to apologize, I decided, making my way into the house. But until then, I had work to do.

**-000-**

Later that morning, after showering and dressing for the day, I headed into the station. It felt weird, going into work and knowing that Bella wasn't going to be there. Fuck it, I told myself as I climbed the stairs.

At the door, the prosecuting attorney, Rod Gomez, greeted me with a cup of hot coffee. "Morning Chief," he said, handing me the coffee.

"Morning," I replied.

"I wanted to drop by and let you know the trial will be starting Monday. You and Ms. Swan will need to be deposed before you can testify. We can do that at your earliest convenience. Just give my office a call."

"I will. Ms. Swan, however, is currently out of town."

"When does she plan on returning?"

"Not until the Wednesday after the trial starts."

Rod ran his pudgy fingers through his thinning grey hair. "Well, I'm going to have to contact her; she needs to be here for this. The trial, is after all, directly related to her, she's the reason it's happening."

I nodded. "I understand. If you'd like me to call her and let her know, I will. It's not a big deal."

"Please do; and please stress the fact that she must return to town to testify lest she be held in contempt."

I didn't know what the hell he meant by that, so I nodded again and entered the station. Fate was a motherfucker who loved to conspire against her. I sighed, hating that I had to be the one to tell her she had to cut her trip short, and return home, however, it was what it was and I would do it because I had to.

Once in my office, I shut the door, sat down behind my desk, and reached for the phone, my fingers hovering over the receiver. Did I really want to call and ruin her vacation before it started or should I wait a couple of days and play it off like I just found out?

Before I could make a decision, the phone rang, scaring me. I jumped like a sissy and picked up the phone. "Chief Black," I barked.

"Hey there Chief," a smokey voice replied.

"Morning Miss Swan," I replied, all the anger that'd been directed at her going right out the window. "How are you?"

"Tired of driving," she answered. "We still have about four more hours to go until we get there."

"Yeah, about that. I talked to the prosecuting attorney this morning-"

"Oh here we go," she muttered. "What now?"

"The trial starts on Monday."

Bella groaned and muttered something incomprehensible. "Go figure."

"I know," I replied. "They want to depose you sometime this week so that you can testify."

"Really great. So I paid for a week in the mountains for no reason, because I'm going to have to come back in a day to be deposed for a trial then I'm going to have to testify at said trial." There was tense silence for a moment then she muttered, "That's really fucking great."

I snapped; all the previous irritation I'd felt returned instantaneously. "This trial is _because_ of you, because some crazy dude thought it would be fun to make _your_ life a living hell. Get over it. If it's such an issue, don't come back, don't testify against Mike. He'll be acquitted and go right back to making creepy phone calls and breaking into your house. You know, you're acting all pissy about this, but it's not just you that this has affected."

I waited for her to answer me, but she never did. When I realized she hung up on me, I replaced the phone and waited, debating whether or not to call her back and apologize. No, I decided. I wasn't going to. I was right; she wanted to throw a hissy fit about being inconvenienced, well, too bad. That was life and she had to deal with it.

It was weird, this was our first fight, and it was over something as seriously ridiculous as this. I understood she was pissed about having to cut her trip short, but the trial was happening because of her, because she'd been stalked and tormented by Mike. I felt bad for snapping at her, but sometimes she acted juvenile and acted as if she still had a right to do whatever she wanted because of what happened to her. I'd never been attacked like her, but I'd been in situations where my life was jeopardy and I didn't go around acting like the world and everyone in it owed me something.

Bella was a victim of her own circumstances and sometimes it seemed like she liked it that way. She was selfish and scared and bitter and I was sick of it. I was ready to jump into this relationship whole-heartedly, but she kept pushing me away. She only thought about herself. I reached for the phone and dialed her number. Surprising me, she answered with a snappy, "What?"

"You're selfish," I blurted out. "You only think about yourself. You do whatever you want to do and you don't care about whom it hurts or who is going to be affected by your decisions. Like this trip out of town, Jesus Bella, you didn't even talk to me about it; you just decided that was what you wanted to do."

"You're not my father Jake; I don't have to talk to you about these kinds of things."

"No, I'm not your father," I conceded, "I am, however, part of your life, don't you think that I deserve to know what's going on in your head?"

Silence crackled over the line as I waited for her to answer. Minutes passed without her speaking a word. Finally I said, "I guess that means no. look, I understand that you have to do what you feel like you have to do, but normal couples talk things over before one of them decides to do something drastic. But I guess we're not normal."

"Jake," she began. "I don't know what you want from me. You knew from the beginning I was screwed up. I don't know what more you want."

"I want a little give and take instead of me giving all the damn time. I give all I have and all you do is take, take, take never giving anything in return. I'm sick and damn tired of feeling like the only one working to make this mean something. I mean shit, what are we? Are you my girlfriend, my friend, my neighbor, the nice girl who lives next door that works for me? What am I exactly to you?"

She sighed. "I care about you and I'm sorry that my decisions have pissed you off, but what are we? I don't know. I thought we were dating, or boyfriend and girlfriend. I thought we cared about each other and that we didn't need labels, but I guess I was wrong. As for me taking all the time and not giving you anything in return, well, I don't know how to respond to that. Again, I thought we were equal partners in this. I didn't realize that you felt like I was just taking everything from you."

"I'm so confused," I admitted. "Five seconds ago you're telling me that you don't know what I want from you, but you care about me and that you didn't think you were taking from me. Which is it? Are you so fucked up beyond repair that I shouldn't want anything from you, or are you telling me that we're a couple and that we're perfectly fine the way we were?"

"Both," she said. "I'm fucked up, yes, but I didn't realize anything was amiss in our relationship."

"Bella you ran off to _Oregon_ for a week without even talking it over with me. How can you think that's normal, that nothing's amiss?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm turning around right now. I should be back in a few hours and then we can sit down and talk about this face to face. I'm sorry that I've made you feel this way. That was never my intention."

"Stop," I ordered her. "Don't come back because of me, that's not what I'm saying. All I mean is that the next time you want to do something like this give me some kind of heads up and I don't mean the day before you leave. That's all."

"Please let Mr. Gomez know that I will be in to see him Friday morning and that I will be at the courthouse Monday morning. I wish there was something I could say to you to make this all okay again. I never meant for you to get so upset. I thought it would be a good idea for me to take a step back, gain some perspective, and come back to you, ready to begin our lives together."

"And I would have known that's how you felt if you'd told me more than just "I'm leaving town." I mean, really, what am I supposed to get from that. We need to be a team, you and I, especially if you want to be with me. That's how being a couple works. We talk about things, we make decisions together, we don't go shooting from the hip, and hoping it all works out in the wash okay?"

"Alright," she replied. "I'm sorry; I just thought I was doing the right thing, not only for myself, but for us as well. Look, I want to continue this conversation, but not while I'm on the road. Can I call you from the hotel tonight?"

"Yes," I said. "Just give me a call whenever you get settled in and we can talk about this some more. Drive safe."

"I will. Talk to you tonight. Bye."

"Bye.

**-000-**

"When She's Gone" by Brett Dennen

and because I haven't done this in a while...

Reviews are better than a long distance telephone arguement...because everybody knows fighting over the phone is lamespice

; ) til next time lovelies!


	14. Lose It All

The Ties that Bind

Chapter Fourteen - Lose It All

Bella

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Did you make it to Oregon?"

"Yup. We're settled in. It's lovely; I wish you could be here."

"Yeah, well, if you'd thought enough about me to ask me along, I would be."

I sighed. He was still bitter about being left behind. "I'm sorry," I said, not wanting to fight anymore.

"Are you really or are you simply trying to placate me?"

"Both," I replied honestly.

"Why Bella? I just don't understand you, I really don't."

"What don't you understand?" I asked, remembering to keep my voice down so as not to disturb Callie who was asleep on the couch.

"I don't understand any part of you. You're childish sometimes, and you're ridiculously complacent. You're more than willing to take everything life has thrown at you lying down. You refuse to fight back, to fight through it."

"How did this go from me leaving town without talking it over with you to me as a person?"

"Because," he spat. I could sense his mounting irritation as he silently struggled to find the right words. "All these things, they've just been collecting and slowly irritating me and I can't go on in our relationship anymore, if you can even call it that, pretending that everything is all rosy when it isn't."

I sat on the bed in stunned silence feeling as if my entire world was crumbling around me. "What are you saying?" I asked softly.

"That things between us need work. We're so broken that I'm not really sure it can be fixed."

My breath caught in my throat. Was he breaking up with me? I couldn't bear to ask. Tense silence crackled over the phone line as I waited for him to say something more. I'm sure he was waiting for me to say something however, words failed me. What did he want me to do, plead for him to give me a second chance?

"Are you going to say anything?" he finally asked.

"I don't know what to say," I admitted.

"Bella, I just told you that I think we're at the end of the road and you have _nothing_ to say?"

I sighed; what was there to say? I knew this would happen, it was inevitable. We were doomed from the start. "If that's how you feel then I guess that's how you feel," I told him. It was probably better this way anyway, I thought. It would probably be for the best if I let him go. I loved him enough to let him go because I knew that, deep down, he'd be better off without me. "Maybe you're right, maybe we can't be fixed. Maybe it's better if we just go our separate ways."

"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked.

I paused for a moment, trying to decide if this was something I really wanted to do. Every part of me screamed no; screamed for me to stop, to take it back before it truly was too broken to fix, but another, quieter, more stoic part of me wisely said, yes, yes I am and trust me, you'll be better for it.

"Are you?" he repeated.

"Yes," I said softly. "I am. Let's face it; I'm no good for you. Mike Newton wants to kill you, and your life would be so much better off without me."

"Only because you'd rather be tied to the past, you'd rather continue to be a victim of your own circumstances because you refuse to let go of all the things that are weighing you down-"

"No, Jake, this _is_ me letting go, this is me trying to start completely over. This is me trying to take myself back, that's what this week was about. It was supposed to be about me finding my way back to the person I was before any of this ever happened."

"You keep telling yourself that," he said bitterly, "but we both know it's only going to be a matter of time before you need me again, but only this time, I won't be there to come rescue you."

"I never asked you to rescue me!" I shouted into the phone.

"Of course not," he thundered back, "You just cried to me about creepy phone calls and people breaking into your house, and all kinds of shit like that."

"Whatever Jake," I snapped. "I never heard you once complain about it before; you never said no, you never stopped trying to "rescue" me. You thought you could save me and now your pissed because you finally realize you can't." My chest heaved as bitter anger flowed through my veins. If it was a fight he wanted, a fight he would get. "So you know what, have a nice life – without me."

I pulled the phone away from ear and pressed end, then tossed it in the general direction of the foot of the bed. It bounced then landed on the floor with a thud. And there you have it, I thought as I stared off into the darkness. Everyone leaves, it's inevitable.

**-000-**

Two days later, as the Volvo powered through a torrential downpour in the middle of the highway, I stared out the windshield and wondered what I would find when I returned to Forks.

"Why are we going home early?" Callie asked.

"We've already talked about this," I told her, sighing. "I have to meet with a lawyer because the man who hurt that pig is going to court on Monday and I have to tell the jury about what happened."

"Am I going to have to tell them too?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'll have to ask Mr. Gomez about that, but I don't think you will."

"Darn," she said. "I wanted him to get in trouble for doing that."

I snorted softly. "He will, sweetie, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

She nodded and resumed reading her book, something she'd found in the nightstand of the hotel. I focused on the road and wondered for the umpteenth time since leaving Sisters what it would be like to go back to my life in Forks sans Jake.

It would be weird, I decided. Like living with the ghosts of everything you almost had. Maybe it won't be that awkward, I thought. Maybe it'll be like it was right after we moved here. The radio, however, disagreed.

The only station that I could get to come in clearly as I drove north on I-5 was a station that seemed to be happiest when playing songs by random boy bands of the late 90's. The one currently playing featured a prepubescent man whining about the ghosts of you and me.

As the miles passed, hundreds of songs from yesteryear lulled me back into my teenage years. Each song offering me a glimpse into what my life would be like if I went through with this, with being single and apart from Jake.

"Mom, what is this music?" Callie asked, eyeballing the radio as the Backstreet Boys poured out of the car's stereo.

"The only station we can get out here," I told her. "So it's this, or silence."

"I guess it's not that bad," she conceded as the song changed.

I drove, the radio playing softly, Callie mumbling under her breathe as she read. A little after noon we stopped for lunch then got right back on the road. I had to be back in Forks no later than four this afternoon.

Thursday morning I'd called Prosecutor Gomez to find out when he needed to see me.

"Ms. Swan," he'd said after his secretary patched me through. "Are you planning on coming in before the trial begins on Monday?"

"That's why I was calling," I replied sarcastically. "I wanted to know what is the latest you can meet with me on Friday afternoon."

"One second, let me consult my schedule."

The phone clicked as he put me on hold, classical music, Vivaldi, played tinny over the cell phones speaker.

"Ms. Swan?" Mr. Gomez said, cutting off a violin concerto in E Major.

"Still here Mr. Gomez."

"If you could get here by four pm, Friday afternoon that would be great. It will give us time to go over everything – from the questions the defense is going to ask, to the questions I'm going to ask. I need for you to be completely prepared so that we can get this guy off the streets so that way he's not hurting anyone else."

"Okay," I said. "I'll definitely be there by four."

"Alrighty then, I'll have Candy pencil you in for Friday at four."

"Great, see you then."

Glancing at the dash, I saw that I had plenty of time. It was a little after two and all things considered, we'd be back in Forks in a little under an hour.

"You ready to get back home?" I asked Callie.

She shrugged. "I guess so. It would've been nice to have a few more days at the hotel. But I guess it won't be too bad, I'll get to see Jake."

Hello elephant in the car.

"Mhmm," I replied, my tone noncommittal. I hadn't told her that we'd broken up, I was going to, but I didn't know how to. I hadn't spoken to Jake since Wednesday night. He hadn't called me either. I figured we were really over and that was the end of it.

It made me sad, but in a way, well, I was relieved. Part of my heart was broken, well, truthfully, my whole heart was broken. I cared about Jake and I didn't want to lose him, but like I told him, maybe it was better for the both of us if we did break up. Maybe someday in the future, when I was able to finally and fully let go of the past, we could have a second chance.

It was a whole lot of maybes.

As we crossed the Forks city limits, it felt good to be home even though we were only gone for two days. I headed straight for the courthouse and my appointment with Mr. Gomez.

"We have to go to the courthouse," I told Callie as I pulled into the parking lot. "After we're finished here, we'll go home."

"Okay."

Mr. Gomez's office was cold and uninviting, the office of a man who liked to win and would do anything to accomplish it. As Callie sat with his receptionist, I sat across from Mr. Gomez, telling and retelling the story, answering questions about the break in and the phone calls.

After an hour, he stood up, a smile on his face. "I think you're ready for Monday," he said, a slippery smile on his face. "The trial is set to begin at nine, please be on time."

I nodded as I stood, grabbing my purse by its strap. "I'll see you Monday then." Callie was waiting for me as I exited Gomez's office.

"Look mom," she said shoving an origami bird in my face. "I made origami swans, like our last name."

I smiled and took the snow white bird in my hand, the lyrics of a Pink Floyd song playing in my head. "Now wakes the hour, now sleeps the swan, behold the dream, the dream is gone." I smiled sadly, as I realized the dreams I had a few days ago were gone. "Thank you sweetie, its lovely. Are you ready to go home?"

Callie nodded, collecting her fleet of paper swans and waved goodbye to Candy the receptionist. The trip back across town took less than ten minutes. As I pulled into the driveway, it felt as if we'd been gone much longer. So much had happened in the span of a few days and yet I felt changed by it all.

I glanced across the yard at Jake's house, his kitchen light on in the descending twilight. I wondered if I should go over and say something to him when I noticed him at the window, glancing out at us. I raised my hand in silent greeting and smiled for show's sake. Jake shook his head and walked away from the window.

Callie watched the silent exchange with rapt attention. "Mom did you and Jake have a fight?"

I nodded wordlessly. "Come on, let's get inside. I'll make dinner and we'll talk."

I exited the car and headed toward the trunk, grabbing our bags and slamming the trunk. Callie ran ahead, climbing the stairs and opening the screen door. I followed behind her, lugging the bags up the brick steps. I handed her the keys and chastised myself for not leaving the porch light on.

Callie found the lock and slipped the key inside, disengaging the deadbolt. She pushed the front door open and clicked on the porch light, flooding the yard with buttery light. Attracted immediately to the light was a moth that flew stupidly into the fixture, bouncing off only to fly right back to it.

I shook my head, feeling somewhat like the moth, flying stupidly into something I knew I couldn't have. I stepped into the foyer and set the bags down then shut and locked the front door behind me. In the other room, Callie had clicked on lamps, the light chasing away the darkness.

"What do you want to eat?" I asked her, heading into the kitchen.

"Chicken," she replied.

I opened the freezer and pulled a package of frozen chicken breasts out, setting them in the sink under hot water to defrost. Callie entered the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter.

"So you and Jake," she said.

"We broke up," I told her as I pulled a bag of egg noodles out of the cabinet.

Callie gasped. "What? Why? Did he say something mean to you?"

"No," I told her. "Sometimes, when you date someone you realize that you don't have as much in common as you thought and it's easier to break up than to stay in a relationship where no one's happy."

"But I thought you guys were happy."

"We were for a while," I replied.

"But you're not anymore," she supplied.

"I guess so."

"So you had a fight and then you broke up?"

"Yes," I answered.

"You guys should say you're sorry for the fight and make up. It's stupid to be mad at each other, especially when you were happy before. Remember your birthday, when Jake came over and we had pizza and played twister? That was so much fun. Maybe if we did that again you guys could get back together and then you wouldn't be sad anymore."

If only it were that easy, I thought, tearing up. "Maybe," I told her. "Yummy chicken dinner?"

Callie nodded and reached into the spice cabinet, pulling out the Monterey chicken seasoning. She set it down on the counter beside her, leaned to the left, and pulled out a can of green beans. I set a frying pan on the stove, got out the butter, and retrieved the chicken from the sink.

"So, are you gonna talk to him ever again?"

I shrugged, setting the chicken in frying pan and adding the butter and seasoning. "I don't know. He's pretty mad right now, so I think I should probably give him a few days then talk to him."

I retrieved a pot from the dishwasher, filled it full of water, and set it on a burner, turning it on to boil. Opening the fridge again, I pulled out a block of Monterey Jack cheese and set it on the counter. "Get me the cutting board?" I asked as I searched the utensil drawer for the cheese slicer. Callie hopped down and got the cutting board out of the cabinet. Placing it on the counter under the cheese she said, "Promise you'll talk to him. I like Jake."

"Promise." I would talk to him, because she asked me to, but I truly believed that the damage to our relationship was irreparable.

We ate in the living room, _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_ providing the entertainment. Jake's absence was glaringly obvious now, he was the finishing piece of our family, the other half that made us whole. I had to make this right again.

I had no idea how to do fix us, what to do or what words to say, but I knew I had to try because if I didn't, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

-000-

So, reviews are better than Bella breaking up with Jake. for realsies

A Pillow Of Winds by Pink Floyd

Lose It All by Backstreet Boys (oh yeah, i so totally went there, lol)


	15. Sharks And Danger

Chapter Fifteen - Sharks And Danger

The Ties that Bind

Bella

Monday morning found me sitting in a stuffy courtroom full of reporters and people who had nothing better to do with their day than to see Mike Newton be branded as a psychotic stalker who enjoyed killing small animals and writing messages in their blood.

As I sat in the courtroom, I found it hard to look at my ex-best friend. His wife, however, had no trouble shooting daggers at me with her angry, bloodshot eyes.

I stared down at my lap, desperate to avoid her gaze. I wanted to turn around, scan the courtroom for Jake, but I had feeling that I wouldn't find him. Gomez, who was sitting beside me, opened his brief case and made a big show of setting all his folders and legal briefs out on the table before him, a smug smile on his pudgy rodent face.

I shivered, I did not like this man. He was seven shades of creepy himself. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if he stalked a few people in his day. Gomez glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "You okay?" he muttered.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around me, wishing I didn't have to face this alone. I screwed that up though, by breaking up with Jake. Today made five days since I'd broken up with him; five days since I talked to him or felt his arms around me, his lips on mine, five days without him.

A soft hand patted my shoulder from behind, I whipped around and stared into the kind and pretty face of Dr. Banner. She smiled at me as she unwound an eggplant colored scarf from around her neck. "How're you holding up?"

I returned the smile and said, "Fine."

"Good. Well, I'll be here if you need me."

I quietly thanked her, taking the opportunity to scan the courtroom for Jake, taking care to avoid Mike's wife. My eyes skimmed over ever face, picking out the ones that were slightly familiar but failing to find the one face I'd know anywhere. I sighed sadly and turned around. I guess he had somewhere else to be.

A commotion at the front of the courtroom caught my attention. The bailiff stepped forward, "All rise!" he called. "The Honorable Judge Weston Reyes presiding, this court is now in session."

A door behind the judge's bench opened and an attractive middle-aged man who bore a stunning resemblance to Jimmy Smits entered the courtroom dressed in his black robe. Making a big show, the judge shuffled several stacks of papers around his desk before addressing the court. "Be seated," he ordered. "So let's see what we have today. The state of Washington versus Michael Ian Newton, who is being charged with criminal trespassing, felony stalking against a law enforcement employee. How does the defendant plead?"

Mike's lawyer, a balding man with a potbelly replied in a nasally voice, "Not guilty your honor."

"So be it, a plea of not guilty has been entered. Mr. Gomez, selection of the jury has been made, do you object to jury selection?"

"No your honor," Gomez replied.

Reyes turned to Mike's lawyer, "Mr. Hall, do you object to the jury selection?"

"No, your honor."

"Fabulous, then let's get this show on the road. Mr. Gomez?" Reyes motioned a podium stationed between the two tables.

Beside me, Gomez rose, shuffled some papers on the table before him, collecting the ones he needed before marching toward the podium. Gomez stood at the podium silently, allowing his dramatics to mount, in a vain attempt at suspense. Reyes, however, was having none of it.

"Sometime this millennium would be fantastic," the judge muttered, irritated.

Gomez flushed under the judge's admonishment and cleared his throat, then turned to the jury and said, "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you? What's the worst thing you've ever let happen to your child?"

I flinched, immediately knowing where he was going with this. And just as I suspected, the rest of his opening statement was about the dead piglet that Callie found in the kitchen and the sinister message scrawled in blood. A few women on the jury gasped slightly as Gomez spoke and shot me sympathetic glances. I averted my eyes and prayed he would hurry up and finish.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gomez returned to the podium, collected his notes, and returned to his seat beside me at the table.

Mike's lawyer stumbled out of his seat and tripped to the podium. As he stood behind it, he coughed nervously then stuttered through his opening statements. At the front of the courtroom, the judge looked bored and slightly irritated. I got the feeling that he'd rather be knee deep in the back nine. Either that or shacked up in some seedy motel halfway to Port Angeles with a hooker named Star – Glitter.

Mr. Hall finished and managed to make his way back to the defendant's table without making a spectacle of himself. What happened next was a blur, large bags filled with items I recognized from my house as well as several police officers were paraded through the courtroom, questions were asked of the officers, Mike was called a killer – even if it was just an animal killer – Mr. Hall tripped several more times and words like, "Objection, sustained, overruled," were shouted a lot.

As the last of the officers shuffled out of the courtroom, a new set of employees were herded in. Character witnesses in the form of Mike's employees were all seated before us, one at a time. Each one offered the same, strikingly similar story – that Mike was a good guy, a decent boss, someone who would never hurt a fly let alone break into someone's house and leave a dead pig in their kitchen.

After a quick lunch in the courthouse cafeteria, it was back to the courtroom, more character witnesses, this time, ex-girlfriends, and friends, who told the jury about Mike's temper and his penchant for blowing things way out of proportion.

It was damning stuff. I would have felt bad if Mike's wife wasn't staring daggers at the back of my head.

At the end of the day, I escaped the courtroom, avoided the mediocre news crew waiting on the courthouse steps, and retreated back to the confines of my cozy home.

The rest of the week went the same way. Jake testified the following day, and then it was my turn after lunch. On Thursday, both attorneys gave their closing arguments and the jury retreated into their special room to deliberate.

I waited at the courthouse until six for the verdict then finally went home. At least there I could wait comfortably. Earlier this morning, an article in the newspaper had caught my attention. The headline screamed, "Ancient grudge breaks forth new mutiny." Below the headline was a photo of me and Mike from high school. I skimmed the first paragraph, appalled. The reporter had an exclusive from Mike himself, who told the reporter that this was my way of having my revenge. Then he went into great detail about what happened the night of the party, called me a liar and told the whole town of Forks that I seduced Riley Biers and when I got pregnant, I lied and claimed he raped me.

At home, the house was eerily quiet. Callie was with Emily, the babysitter and I was alone. I wearily climbed the stairs, ready for this to literally be over. In my room, I slipped out of my wool skirt and pulled on some sweatpants, tugging my hair into a high ponytail.

Back downstairs, I fixed a sandwich and sat down at the table. The glow from Jake's porch was warm and inviting. I swallowed the bite of sandwich, the bread being stuck in my throat as my emotions overwhelmed me. I missed him fiercely and decided that as soon as the trial was over, I was going to apologize for everything I'd done to him, and ask him to give us another chance. I would apologize until I died, and I would never stop fighting to get him back. Facing this, the trial, mike, all the nasty things the newspaper and TV were saying about me, unlocked something inside of me.

I was stronger than I'd ever given myself credit for. I wasn't weak or pathetic, but I'd spent so much time believing I was, that I actually became the basket case I was. I bound myself to the past with my own actions. Being forced to face this on my own, having no one to shield or protect me, well it was liberating. I'd actually done something on my own. Knowing that I was braver than I thought, gave me the courage to decide to go after what I wanted.

Finishing the sandwich, I set my plate in the sink. I'd wash it later. As I went to the fridge for bottle of water, a thump from upstairs stopped me. I glanced up at the cracked plaster ceiling, my breath trapped in my chest. Did I really hear that or was it a product of my over active imagination?

I waited, my heart beating so loudly if the noise happened again I couldn't tell. Exhaling slowly, I crept toward the stairs. At the foot of the staircase, I paused, my hand resting gently on the banister.

The noise banged again. A soft whimper exploded in my throat. I slowly climbed the stairs, telling myself with each step that whatever was causing the noise was harmless, an animal in the attic or a loose shutter – something _not_ sinister and dark.

On the second floor landing, I paused, waiting to hear it again. All was quiet for a moment, then there was the sound of footsteps scampering across the attic. I stood there, hand lingering over the light switch, rooted to the spot.

Oh shit, my mind screamed. Shit, shit, shit.

Run! My subconscious offered. Don't wait to see what it is, run the hell away and get help.

I turned quickly, stumbling over my own two clumsy feet. I tumbled down the stairs, smacking my head on the rough wooden steps as I plunged toward the first floor. Landing on my back at the foot of the stairs, I smacked the back of my head on the floor. The pain was intense, my eyes stung as tears made my already blurry vision doubly so.

I didn't have time to lie there in pain. I quickly got to my feet, the floor rising up to meet me. I closed my eyes and darted to the front door, yanking it open and fleeing into the night. The air was bitterly cold as I darted across the frozen front yard, sprinting clumsily toward Jake's house.

His porch steps were icy under my feet. I slipped, and clinging to the railing, righted myself. Frantically, I jabbed the doorbell. "Jake!" I called. "Oh god Jake please open the door!"

The hall light turned on and the front door opened. Jake stared down at me, concern written all over his face. "Bella, what's wrong?" he asked, opening the storm door.

"There's someone in my attic," I gasped, the air stinging my lungs.

"Are you sure?" he asked dubiously.

I nodded. "I heard footsteps, they were walking around all over up there. Can you please come and check it out?"

Jake sighed. "Let me get my coat. I'll be right back."

I wrapped my arms around my torso as I waited for him to come back. He reappeared momentarily, a vicious looking black gun in his hands. "Let's go," he said, tucking it into the waistband of his pants and cautiously took to the stairs. He reached for me, steadying me as I carefully returned to solid ground.

"You didn't go into the attic did you?" he asked as we trekked across the front lawn.

I shook my head no, a few tendrils of hair escaping from my ponytail.

"Where's Callie?"

"At the sitter's. I came home to grab a bite to eat and wait for the jury's decision." I tucked the hairs behind my ear and followed him up my front stoop.

"Okay, wait here," he commanded entering the house.

"Be careful," I whispered.

He took to the stairs, taking them two at a time. As Jake reached the second floor landing he paused, retrieving the gun from his waistband. I peered into the darkness, hoping against hope that he would be fine.

The only sound in the otherwise still house was the creaking and groaning of the attic door swinging open. I heard Jake's sneakers squeaking, the stairs groaning as he slowly climbed them, harsh light flooding the hallway, spilling down the stairs then, very faintly, I heard his laughter.

"Bella, bring your phone and come up here," he called.

Turning the light on, I ventured into the kitchen and grabbed the phone from its receiver by the toaster, then hurried up to the attic. "Where are you?" I called, looking around the cluttered space.

"Over here," came the muffled call.

I followed the sound of his voice to the north end of the attic and almost bumped into his crouched body. "What did you find?" I asked, looking down.

Nestled into a space along the wall under the eaves, was a small, baby raccoon. It peered at us with frightful eyes and made a crying sound that was reminiscent to that a distressed kitten would make.

"It's so cute," I cooed. A second mask faced appeared as the raccoon siblings stared at us. "Where's mom?"

"Not sure, but we should probably get out of here before she returns." He stood up and we walked back downstairs together. "You should probably call an exterminator in the morning to come get them out of there. If you don't they'll get bigger and really wreak some havoc on the structure of the house."

"Okay, I'll be sure to do that," I said as we walked toward the foyer. "Thanks for coming, I was so scared."

"Not a problem," he said, his hand resting on the doorknob. "See you later."

He turned the knob and opened the door. I had a chance here, probably the only one I was going to get. "Jake wait!"

He stopped, turning back to me. "I'm sorry," I said. "For everything. Can you come back inside so we can talk. I miss you, I miss being around you and talking to you, I miss having you around."

He sighed, visibly at war with himself. Stay or go, stay or go, I could see the confliction in his eyes.

I reached out, closing the distance between us and set my hand upon his arm. "Stay, please."

He looked at me, those oddly hazel eyes smoldering. "I've missed you," he said and shut the door.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was so stupid. I thought I was going to lose you, and I didn't want to hurt you so I thought if I let you go it would keep me from hurting you in the long run and I'm so sorry, I was stupid. I love you and I never want to spend another day without you."

Jake scooped me up in his arms. "I love you too," he said. "I think I always have and I know I always will."

Sharks And Danger by Alexisonfire

Sorry about the time between updates...having trouble figuring out how to connect all the dots, but I think I've got it now ; )


	16. World Spins Madly On

Chapter Sixteen – "World Spins Madly On"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

This place was familiar. The low slung, dilapidated grey buildings, the garbage swirling in the late evening breeze, hell even the smell brought back memories of an event whose details I could not remember.

Taking a tentative step forward, I glanced around trying to get my bearings, trying to figure out where I was and how I got there. "Hello?" I called out. The scurrying of some unseen animal was the only thing that answered me. "Hello?" I called again.

The stillness of the night was unsettling, a thick, foreboding feeling pressed down on me. In my chest, my heart raced - thump, thump, thump, thump. I took a deep breath, exhaling through pursed lips, my heart, however, refused to be still. It banged against my ribs like a frightened bird desperate for escape.

A cool breeze kicked up as I entered the alley between two ramshackle buildings. Something was going to happen, something bad. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and for the first time, I looked down, noticing a weight in my hands. A black gun, one of my father's guns, trembled in my hand. The gun clattered as my hand shook; a low cry escaped my lips. Flecks of dark blood speckled my hand.

"Oh god," I moaned. What the hell was going on, this couldn't be real, I couldn't really be in some random, desolate alley with a gun in my hand and blood on my skin. Whose blood was it and why was it on.

I glanced up, peering down the alley. I had to be dreaming, this had to be a dream. The cold steel of the gun in my hand felt too real though. Panic bubbled up my throat, choking me. I blindly moved down the alley, searching for a way out of this nightmarish maze.

Glassy windows reflecting moonlight rushed by as I ran down the alley, the gun still in my hand. In the distance, I heard the wail of a siren and stopped, trying to pinpoint its location. Briefly, I wondered if they were coming for me, but it seemed impossible, if I didn't know where I was surely no one else would either.

I sat down with my back to a building and pulled my knees toward my chest. The wailing came closer. I dropped my head to my knees, dropping the gun on the ground beside me, and sobbed into my knees. To my left, there was a slow shuffle of footsteps. My head popped up and I snatched the gun off the ground beside me, holding it out unsteadily in front of me. "Who's there?" I called in a shaky voice.

"Bella," a familiar voice replied.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Bella!"

I bolted out of sleep and looked around. Jake's worried face peered down at me. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concern melting the soft chocolate of his eyes.

I patted the bed around me, making sure there was no gun in the bed. "I'm home right?"

Jake squinted at me, his eyebrows knitting together. "Oh course you are," he said slowly. "Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

I nodded stupidly. "I was in some kind of, I don't know. There were a bunch of old buildings, I had a gun, and there was blood on my hands. Then cops showed up."

Jake pulled me close to him and rubbed my back. "It was just a dream," he soothed. "Everything is fine; I think you're just stressed because of the trial."

I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. "Probably," I admitted. "But, I don't know Jake, it felt...real. Almost as if I've been there before."

"Maybe it's some place that looks like somewhere you've been before. Or maybe you've seen it on TV or in a movie. There's a thousand explanations. Just take a deep breath; you're fine. It was just a dream, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, but there was something, I don't know, call it lingering paranoia, but it felt almost as if he was trying to convince me that it was really just a dream. Jake was staring intently at me, and again, the feeling that he was forcing me to believe something I wasn't so sure of washed over me. I smiled feebly at him and slid out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower," I said as I padded toward the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind me, I flicked the radio on allowing the swell of music to fill the bathroom. Humming along to the music, I undressed and stepped into the tub, turning the shower on. As the water warmed, Jake knocked at the door.

"Bella?" he called through the wood. "Judge Reyes' secretary just called, the jury came to a decision. You have to be in court at nine."

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. "Okay," I called back.

What was with the weirdness this morning? Okay, maybe it had a lot to do with last night, I mean, we broke up and then we got back together last night. He told me that he loved me- crazy in the head, commitment phobic me.

I smiled and turned my face up to the spray. Someone actually loved me for just the way I was. It was a giddy feeling, the happiness swelled - pushing the darkness of the dream and Jake's odd behavior out of my mind.

After I finished in the shower, I reentered my room and quickly dressed. Jake called up from downstairs, "It's getting late, we've gotta hurry or we're going to be late."

"I'm coming," I called, slipping on my shoes and hurrying down the stairs. He met me at the base of the staircase with a bagel and a cup of coffee.

As we left the house, I pulled my jacket on and slipped on the icy stairs. Jake dropped the coffee and caught me. "Remind me to salt those when we get home," he said, righting me.

"Will do," I replied.

The scene at the courthouse could only be described as pure chaos. Reporters were camped out on the courthouse steps, lying in wait for me to show up so they could fire another round of face flushing questions at me.

Jake parked the car, and then hurried around to the passenger side. "Come on," he said opening the door and offering me his hand.

I took it and glanced down at my feet, nervous.

"Chin up," he said gently. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

I glanced up at him, blinking back tears. "Okay, let's go."

With our fingers intertwined, we ascended the courthouse steps. The waiting reporters hurled questions at us.

"Are you dating the chief?"

"Is that why Mike Newton's on trial, because of your connections with the chief of police?"

"Ms. Swan, if you were any other normal woman, you know, not sleeping with the cops, would we still be here?"

I whipped my head around to give that reporter a piece of my mind, Jake tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me toward the doors of the courthouse. "You have to ignore them," he said.

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "They aren't attacking you."

"It doesn't matter. The truth is, that's the way they see it and there's nothing you can do to change it. If this were anyone else the same thing would be happening and they'd be asking a different, albeit just as nasty, set of questions. It's their job, don't take it personally."

I followed him into the dimly lit, overly warm courthouse and headed toward the courtroom. The judge had yet to enter as I made my way to the front of the courtroom. Gomez glanced up at me and motioned for me to sit beside him. I kissed Jake lightly on the lips before leaving him at the first row of seats behind the prosecutors table.

"Are you nervous?" Gomez asked as I sat down.

I shook my head no and said, "Are you?"

"No," he scoffed conceitedly. "I have an 85 percent conviction rate. If this guy gets off it's because the jury is a bunch of ignorant dummies."

"Oh," I said softly. This was Forks, Washington for cripes sakes, and by that I mean Middle of Nowhere, people here weren't stupid, but they weren't completely educated and most thought that the law worked a lot like last week's episode of _CSI_. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it could end badly especially in a case where the evidence was subpar.

Directly in front of me, a door opened and the members of the jury spilled out, filing into their seats to my right. As the last person sat, the bailiff called the court to order and Judge Reyes entered looking irritated.

"Be seated." He turned to the members of the jury and said, "I understand you have come to a decision?"

The jury foreman stood. "We have your honor." He held up a white slip of paper. Reyes motioned to the bailiff who crossed the courtroom to retrieve the paper, which he handed to the judge.

Reyes made a grand show of opening the slip. His eyes darted back and forth, as he read the verdict. Finally, he folded it back up and handed it back to the bailiff who carried it back to the waiting foreman.

"Mr. Foreman, members of the jury, how do you find the defendant?"

The foreman opened the slip of paper and said in a loud clear voice, "We the jury find the defendant, Mike Newton, guilty of the charges of felony stalking."

"And in the charge of criminal trespassing?"

"Guilty, your honor."

On the opposite side of the courtroom, mike's wife made an odd keening sound, and began crying out, "No, no, no."

The judge banged his gavel and shouted, "Order. Mr. Newton, you've been found guilty of the charges against you, you will be remanded to custody until sentencing Monday morning. Court is adjourned."

I glanced back at Jake, stunned. I knew there was irrefutable evidence against Mike, but I didn't expect them to find him guilty. Color me surprised that they did. I stood up, squeezed behind Gomez, and went to Jake. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, whispering in my ear, "I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"I know, I don't know why I was even worried in the first place."

"Silly girl, Let's go home."

Home. I smiled liking the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. It sounded right, and comfortable and safe, the way home should feel.

That night, after Callie came home from school and dinner had not only been had, but put away as well, the evening found us lounging in the living room, a show about ghost animals on TV, Jake and Callie's attention completely absorbed. I sat there watching the two of them, relishing the fact that for the first time I felt completely safe. Most nights, I sat here waiting for the other shoe to fall, for something completely terrible to happen.

Now, with Mike in jail and Jake here, the universe felt right.

Jake glanced up at me smiling. _I love you_, he mouthed.

_I love you too_, I replied.

Smiling, he rolled back over and focused on the TV.

I sat back and watched the two of them discuss the haunted house featured in the show. I didn't necessarily know what was going on, but it was okay. I loved the fact that we were all together again.

After the show, Callie stood up and announced that she was headed to bed. Jake and I called goodnight to her as she trailed up the stairs. When her door clicked shut above us, he turned the TV off and sat down beside me on the couch.

"So," he said after a beat. "What do we do now?"

I smiled and shrugged. "I have no idea."

Jake frowned at me. "All of your problems are now virtually nonexistent and you have no idea what you want to do now. What kind of woman are you?"

I shrugged again. "Well," I said, trying to keep the embarrassed flush off my skin. "There's one problem that still needs to be taken care of."

"Oh?"

I glanced down at my lap and wondered how to say it without sounding like a complete idiot. "Never mind," I said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

He glanced down at me, slipping his fingers under my jaw, lifting my face. "Hey," he said softly. "Talk to me."

I took a deep breath and said, "Well, there's still the intimacy thing. I was, um, kinda hoping, that uh, maybe we could-" I paused, humility and embarrassment clouding my brain.

"You want to try," he supplied for me.

I nodded, looking everywhere but at him. "Yes," I answered softly. "I'd like to try."

Jake leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to mine. "We will. When the time is right."

I groaned inwardly. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to do it now. In a sense, hell, I wanted to get it over and done with so that we could move on to the next phase. "Jake," I said softly, "could we at least, I don't know, try?"

He sighed softly. "How about a compromise," he offered. "We can make out like teenagers and see what happens."

"Deal," I replied greedily, anxious to take what I could get and not look back.

Jake leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair off my shoulder, his lips skimming a gently path up my collarbone, nipping his way to my ear lobe.

"I love you, Isabella Swan," he murmured in my ear. "I love you so much."

I closed my eyes and leaned into him. "I love you," I whispered.

"Jake, let' go upstairs."

I felt him wrestle with his subconscious. Will you, wont you - back and forth he went. I glanced at him, eyes pleading with him to give in. I was being selfish; I wanted more than just this.

"Bella," he sighed.

"Jake," I replied.

"What if you're not ready?"

"I'm ready," I told him. I didn't know if I was ready or not, but we were sure as hell about to find out. "Follow me."

He allowed me to lead him upstairs, down the darkened hallway. He stopped outside the bedroom door and glanced down at me, eyes flashing in the near darkness. "Are you sure?"

Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned into him, snaking my arms around his neck. "Jacob," I said, my lips brushing against his. "If you don't take me to bed right freaking now, we are going to have a huge problem on our hands and I am not talking about your-" I motioned below the waist of his pants, "well, all that going on down there."

He chuckled nervously and tilted his head to the side and said, "I uh, yeah, sorry about that."

I smiled, fighting embarrassment. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. My gut reaction was to smile and fake it, fake it till I made it. Together we sat down side by side on the edge of the bed, the tension so thick it could've been cut with a knife.

"So," I said unable to fight the awkwardness. "Is it supposed to be this weird?"

Jake laughed. "Yeah, ii think so. If I remember correctly my first time was so awkwardly painful the girl I did it with moved the following summer."

"Oh no," I gasped, horrified. "Are you serious?"

"No," he snorted. "I'm totally kidding."

"Oh, you ass." I threw myself back across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I want to do this," I said softly.

"I know you do," he replied, lying down beside me.

"I'm just scared." I rolled onto my side so we were lying face to face, the dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminating our faces.

I rolled onto my side and stared at him in the darkness. "I'm seriously trying to move on, I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to be with you, in every possible way."

"I know you do," he repeated. "And we'll be together that way when we can. Until then, there are plenty of other, just as interesting and fun, things we can do together."

"Oh?" I feigned interest. "Like what?"

"Like this," he said pulling at the hem of my shirt. It slid effortlessly up past my navel, exposing my skin to the soft touch of his warm lips on my cool skin.

My eyes slid shut and I willed myself to breathe, to just inhale, and exhale. Jake's lips circled my belly button and travelled up the center of my abdomen. He stopped at the raised hemline of my tee and glanced up at me.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "Right as rain," I replied.

"So is it okay if I do this?" he pulled my shirt up further, exposing my naked breast. I shivered as the soft cotton material scraped against my sensitive skin.

"Mhmm," I said, the sound rumbling in the back of my throat.

"What about this?" he asked, raining kisses in the valley between my breasts.

"Yes," I moaned.

"And this is tolerable?" he wrapped his lips around my erect nipple and sucked gently. Nibbling slightly on the tip.

The pleasurable pain set my nerves tingling like a flash fire, a rapidly moving front travelling across my whole body. Gone was the awkwardness associated with first time lovers, lust and desire shoved it aside. The need to feel his hands on my body, his lips on my skin was unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No," I breathed, reaching for his shirt, pulling it up over his head, and tossing it aside. I fumbled with the button on his pants. Jake reached for my hand, stopping me.

"Slow down," he said, "it's not a race, we have all night."

All night was nowhere nearly long enough. He did things to me I'd only ever seen done in movies. As I fell asleep in the early predawn hours that Saturday morning, an overwhelming wave of love and perfection washed over, dragging further down into sleep.


	17. Lapse

Chapter Seventeen – "Lapse"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

(see the end for the AN)

So much can happen in the blink of an eye. Even more can happen in five years. The events of the last five years are not important; they are mundane and typical.

There were high points, like sitting in the courtroom as the judge sentenced Mike Newton to five to eight years in jail for harassing me. There are low points as well, like walking to the mailbox one rainy October afternoon and finding a letter from the parole board at the King County Correctional Facility informing me that said harasser was up for parole and would I like to speak at his hearing.

The passage of said time forces you to watch as your child goes from a girl to a teenager. You watch as she packs up her Barbie's and favorite stuffed animals, as posters of pop music's hottest new singers paper her walls, as issues of Cosmo and Seventeen magazines replaced _Diary of Wimpy Kid_ books.

The time also brings you to the love of your life, a man so perfect it's as if the universe plucked him out of your subconscious. We didn't marry; we didn't see the point. Life was perfect the way it was and I'm not saying marriage would've screwed it up, but maybe it would have. Look at my marriage to Edward - he was, essentially, a good man, but it didn't work. We didn't last and I loved him. I didn't want to take the chance and risk my marriage to Jake not working, so we didn't. We lived in Charlie's old house, went to work and each night when we laid in bed, I silently thanked God for giving me a little bit of good in the battlefield of bad that surrounded me.

At the kitchen table in the here and now, Jake set the letter down and sighed. "I know," I said. "It'd be nice if he just went away permanently."

"Yeah, but that won't happen, not anytime soon at least." Again, he sighed. "What do you want to do?"

"Honestly? I want to drive to Seattle next week and beg them not to let him out. These last years have been so great, peaceful, and quiet and it's been a huge relief not having to worry about him bothering us. I'm afraid of what's going to happen if they let him out. Know what I mean?"

Jake nodded, folding the letter back up and slipping it back into its envelope. He handed it to me and said, "Go then, and tell them exactly what you just told me."

It was my turn to sigh. I knew, deep down inside, it wouldn't do much good. Mike was a nuisance, but not a major criminal. Regardless of what I told the parole board, they were going to release him.

My worst fears were confirmed a few weeks later when, after the parole hearing, I got another letter in the mail stating, that while the board understood and sympathized with my concerns and fears, Mike Newton was a model inmate and demonstrated rehabilitated behavior.

"Rehabilitated behaviors?" I shouted at Jake. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Jake crossed the kitchen and took the letter from me. "It just means that they don't have a reason to keep him incarcerated anymore. I know it sucks, but with prison crowding and the lack of funds, there's not much anyone can do."

"I know," I said, quieting my tone. "It's just-"

"It'll be okay," Jake said, setting the letter on the counter and wrapping his arms around me. "Maybe he really did learn his lesson. Hopefully he'll go home to his family and leave you - us - alone."

"Or maybe he's a really great actor and he's been using the last five years to plot his perfect revenge," I muttered.

Jake laughed. "I doubt it. What time is Callie supposed to be home?"

"I think she said six. She was supposed to stay after school, something to do with the homecoming dance."

"You know there's a boy on the committee that she likes, right."

"I know," I said. "Bobby something or the other."

"I don't like it," Jake said. "Boys are shifty."

I laughed and opened the fridge, getting out a bag of fresh green beans. "They are, but Callie's smart, she's not going to do anything stupid," I said, setting the beans next to the cutting board.

"It's not Callie I'm worried about."

"It'll be fine." I told him, leaning forward to kiss his rough cheek.

"Bobby something or the other better hope so. I really don't want to have to kick some teenage kid's ass for breaking my daughter's heart."

I smiled at that, not kicking the kid's ass, but his daughter's heart. Over the last few years, Jake had really stepped up and taken a fatherly role in Callie's life. She relished the way he doted on her, and was a serious daddy's girl. "It will be fine," I said, turning to him. I placed my hand on his forearm and glanced up at him. "Okay?"

He kissed my forehead. "Okay," he said.

"Okay. Now can you please get the cutting board from that cabinet."

He leaned down, retrieving the cutting board from the cabinet. "So, aside from that-" he motioned the letter on the counter, "how was your day?"

"Kind of boring," I answered. "I did some grocery shopping and took that shirt of yours to the dry cleaners. How about you, interesting day?"

"Same here, I had to fax some paperwork to Seattle about an old case."

"Oh anything interesting?"

"Nah," he said shaking his head. "Just some information about an old murder case."

I waited for him to say more, but he remained silent as I chopped the green beans. Before I could ask anything more about the murder, headlights washed over the front yard.

"Callie's home," Jake said. "I'm gonna run upstairs and change."

"Okay babe. There are clean clothes in the basket at the foot of the bed; I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."

"Roger that," he replied as he left the room. In the hall, he said hello to Callie then heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs.

"Mom!" Callie called.

"In the kitchen," I replied. "What's up?"

"Oh my gosh," she giggled as she rushed into the kitchen. "I got a date to the dance!"

I set the knife down and turned to her. "Honey that's great!"

"I know!"

"What's his name? Tell me all about him."

Callie sighed dreamily and hopped onto the counter, snagging a green bean out of the bag. "His name's Bobby. He's a senior, and he plays football and he's so cute."

"Let me guess, he's the quarterback?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Good guess," I replied.

Callie smiled and sighed dreamily. "He's so great Mom, really. I can't wait for you to meet him; you're going to love him."

I smiled but inside I felt sick. Part of me was afraid history was repeating itself, but part of me was happy that she was happy. "I bet. Are we going to meet him before the dance?"

"If you want to. I can ask him to come by before, so you and Jake can meet him, if you'd like."

"It's up to you Callie, but I'd like to meet him."

"Mom are you alright? You look a little, I dunno, green."

"I'm fine," I smiled at her. "We're going to have to find you a dress."

"I know!" her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Do you think we can go to Seattle to find one?"

"Why don't we try Port Angeles first, see if we can't find something there. If we can't then we'll go to Seattle."

"Awesomesauce. Well, I have homework to do. I'll be in my room." Callie leapt off the counter and crossed the kitchen, grabbing her backpack off the kitchen table before exiting the room.

Alone in the kitchen, I turned the radio on and resumed chopping the green beans. As I chopped, I thought about Callie's date, excited for her. It would be fun to go shopping with her. Maybe we could just skip Port Angeles all together and head into the city. It might be fun.

"What's on your mind beautiful?" behind me the fridge opened briefly, then shut.

"Just thinking about taking Callie to Seattle to find a dress for this dance."

"Sounds like a good idea. When are you two planning that trip?"

I shrugged. "I have to talk to Callie about it, see when she's free."

Jake took a swig of beer and nodded. "Do you need any help with dinner?"

"Nah, I got it."

"Okay, I'll be in the other room if you need me."

Alone again, my thoughts drifted from Callie's dance to Mike Newton, then ultimately to Riley Biers and his gang of assholes. Jake continued to look for him, even after Mike's conviction, but never had any luck locating him.

it was weird, I'll admit that, but truth be told, I was kind of glad no one knew where he was because no one knowing where he was meant that he was most likely dead and if he was dead then he probably deserved it.

I know that sounds wrong, but what he did was wrong and karma is a, well, she's a bitch. Focus, I ordered myself as I dumped handfuls of green beans into the waiting pot on the stove.

"Mom," Callie rushed into the kitchen, her laptop clutched safely to her chest. "I found the most perfect dress."

I laughed. "I thought you were doing homework?"

"I was," she said sheepishly. "I was taking a break and looking at homecoming dresses, you know getting an idea about what I want, and I think I found it."

"Okay," I said, dropping the last of the beans into the pot. "Let me see."

She squealed excitedly and opened the laptop. "Okay, ready?"

The most unexpected dress appeared on the screen before me. Black and knee length with cap sleeves and crinoline, her dream dress looked like it escaped the set of Mad Men earlier this season. "I like it," I told her, which was the truth. I was expecting her to want some sparkly, strapless dress that barely covered her butt cheeks, but this was a pleasant surprise. Modest and vintage.

"I know it's a little off the wall, but I love the whole vintage feel to it, it's cute and all my business-" she motioned her chest and backside, "won't be hanging out. I don't want to go putting it all out there. Gotta make it a little mysterious-"

"I don't want to hear this," I interrupted. "You shouldn't even be thinking about that."

She shot me a patronizing look. "Mom," she said. "I'm almost seventeen."

"Still don't want to hear it. Where is this dress located?"

"Seattle," she answered in a small voice. "I know you said Port Angeles first, and that's fine, but I really like this one."

"It's fine," I said. "When do you want to go shopping?"

"I can go this weekend, if you free."

"This weekend it is. Now, please, go finish your homework."

**-000-**

"Hey Bella, do you have a copy of that coroner report the M.E. in Seattle sent over the other day."

I stared at Wakowski stupidly. "I don't know what you're talking about," I told him.

"Oh, okay, never mind. sorry." He turned to walk away.

"Wakowski, wait." He stopped and turned around. "What coroner's report?"

Wakowski looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. "From an old case about fifteen years or so ago. there was this group of murders a few years ago, the police thought it was odd, how the guys were all killed by the same weapon, but appeared to have no other connections. There's a new chief of police out there and he's reopening some old cold cases. That was one of them."

"Why did Jacob want the coroner's report though?"

"Oh, because one of them went to school here."

"What about the others?"

"One was identified as a John Doe, and the others, well I'm not real familiar with the case. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," I replied.

"Tell me about it," Wakowski smiled. "Thanks for your time."

"Not a problem." Wakowski turned and walked back toward his desk. It was curious Jake didn't tell me about this. It wasn't a big deal, but it was odd. I spun around in my chair and shuffled through a stack of papers in my outbox, looking for the coroner's report. Working at the station all these years had turned me into something of a busybody. I knew all the towns' dirty little secrets, it was like reading a trashy tabloid, but free and happening to people I really knew.

Not finding the report, I shuffled through the rest of my boxes looking for it. Bits and pieces of dreams I'd been having more and more often since Mike's trial flashed through my mind. The abandoned warehouses and buildings, the gun, the blood on my skin.

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temple, massaging away the inexplicable feelings washing over me.

Behind me, Jakes office door opened. "Bella?" he said softly. "You okay?"

I nodded, opening my eyes, glancing up at him. "Just a little headache," I said. "I'll be fine."

"You sure? You can go home if you want."

"I'm fine," I said, smiling at him to prove it. "Do you need something?"

"Actually, I need to talk to you."

I swallowed hard and stood up. "Okay."

We walked back to his office where he shut the door. "I just found out that Tyler Crowley is dead."

"Oh really?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah, somebody shot him."

"When?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not. Do you know who shot him?"

Jake shook his head. "No, Seattle police are handling it."

"I thought he lived in like Tacoma," I said.

"He was killed in Seattle so it makes it their case."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say or what to feel. Part of me was glad, but another part of me felt a little out of sorts.

"You alright?" Jake asked.

"You know what? I think I'm going to take you up on that offer to go home. I'll see you tonight."

I stood and left his office, briefly stopping at my desk to collect my purse and keys. As I drove home, one thought plagued me: something weird was going on here.

**-000-**

So, some of you are trying to figure out what's going on and it seems you're driving yourselves a little crazy so I'm going to help you out. I have finished the story, the chapters just came back from my faux-beta and are ready to go up. Do you want them all right now, or do you want me to post a chapter a day? you tell me. majority vote wins. **  
**

"Lapse" by Envy on the Coast


	18. And So It Ends Like It Began

Chapter Eighteen – "Act Five, Scene Four, And So It Ends Like It Began"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

(sorry about the last chapters...sometimes the site leaves my line breaks in and sometimes it takes them out...sorry for the confusion)

**-000-**

With the weird vibes in the house, Callie and I headed in to Seattle early Saturday morning, stopping at a coffee shop for a quick pick me up before tackling the dress shop.

"So," I asked as Callie picked apart a cinnamon roll.

"So," she retorted.

"You have a date with Bobby tonight?"

Callie nodded. "We're going to see a movie, I think. I told him I don't know if we'll be back in time."

"Honey why didn't you tell me? We could have come out here another day."

"Its fine mom," she said. "Besides, I can go out with bobby whenever, I want to spend time with you."

I grabbed the moment and held onto it tightly. In a few short years, these moments would be nonexistent after Callie went off to college. Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away quickly.

"Mom are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded, trying to discreetly wipe my eye. "I'm fine. Come on, we've got a dress to buy."

In the car, Callie typed the stores address into the GPS. The prim British voice directed me through the maze of Seattle traffic. As I circled the block looking for a place to park, I couldn't help but think about Jake's odd behavior these last few days. I felt like he was, I don't know, hiding something from me. It was like something was going on that he didn't want me to know about it. I knew it wasn't an affair, his behavior didn't convey that, but it was something big. Something he was keeping secret.

Pulling into a vacant space in front of Unique Vintage I turned the car off and said to Callie, "Alright, let's go find you a dress."

She bolted out of the car, and rushed the store. Following several feet behind her, I followed as Callie made a bee line for the dress section of the story, smiling as she let out a girly, "oh my gosh mom these dresses are so cute."

She held up a 40's era dress, black and white checkered and sporting a bright red belt. "What do you think?"

I wrinkled my nose and picked up a similar dress in solid black. "I like this one better," I said.

"Me too. Can you hang onto it?"

I nodded and draped the dress over my arm and so it went. We walked around the store for over an hour picking out dresses, my arm aching under the weight of dresses from several different eras' and puffiness.

Once Callie got into a dressing room, my arm got a break. I got to sit, and a girl with bright red lipstick, rolled bangs and a partial updo brought me a bottle of water.

One dress at a time, Callie scrutinized her appearance in the three-way mirror, slowly eliminating her selection until she came to the final dress, the one she showed me online. Callie bit her lip anxiously as she walked out of the dressing room. "I think this might be the one Mom," she said, a smile dawning across her face.

I had to agree. The color suited her and the skirt swung happily, as she walked, reminding me even more of her. "I love it," I said. "I think it's perfect."

"I do too. I think this is the one I want."

"Okay, well go change. We'll pay for it then head back home; maybe you can still make it to your date with Bobby."

"Woo hoo," Callie laughed, disappearing back into the dressing room. "I can't wait for you and Jake to meet him; I really think you guys are going to like him."

"I might, Jake, well you know he's going to pull that whole, tough guy, I'm a cop you hurt my daughter I'll kill you, routine."

"I know. It's okay. That's his way of showing that he loves me."

I laughed. She was right. Of course, he told her, but I think she knew it because of the little things he did for her on a daily basis.

Once Callie reemerged from the dressing room, homecoming dress in tow, we made our way to the front of the shop and the waiting cashier who gushed over Callie's choice and recommended different websites that would help her choose a vintage hairstyle to match her dress.

I smiled as we exited the store, Callie carrying her dress and chattering about the dance. I was relieved – no, I was so far beyond relieved I doubted there was a word for how happy I was that my child was having a normal life and normal teenage experiences. It thrilled me to the core that when she grew up and had kids of her own, she would look back on this time of her life with happiness, not fear and anger.

"Mom, are you okay?" Callie asked as we got into the car.

I nodded, discreetly wiping a tear from my eye. "I'm fine sweetie, why do you ask?"

Callie shrugged. "You're just really quiet. I thought maybe something was bothering you. If it's the dress, I know it costed a lot, I'll pay you back-"

I held up my hand effectively silencing her. "It's not the dress, or anything else for the fact of the matter. I'm just, happy and sad at the same time. I'm glad you're enjoying your high school years but I'm sad that soon you'll be heading off to college and starting your own life."

"Not yet," she said sliding into the car. "You still have a few more years with me, you still have time."

I nodded. "Yes," I said. "Yes I do."

**-000-**

We made it back to Forks in just less than four hours – enough time for Callie to go out with Bobby. He picked her up from the house a little after eight. Jake met him at the door and gave him the notorious cop eye, the one that said, screw around and I'll screw you up.

I pulled Jake away and said to Bobby, "Don't worry about him, his barks worse than his bite."

Bobby laughed nervously and wrung his hands. "I don't know about that, he's looks like he means business."

"That's because I do," Jake said from the living room.

"Um, okay," bobby tittered nervously. "What time would you like for me to have Callie home?"

"Eleven," I said. "Please."

"Not a problem," he said.

"See you guys later," Callie called, grabbing bobby with one hand, her jacket with the other.

He followed her like a lovesick puppy out the door. I followed behind them, shutting the heavy oak door as the pair hurried across the lawn. I smiled and headed into the living room where Jake was watching a Deadliest Catch rerun.

"I don't like him."

"What? Why?"

"He's too polite," Jake said, looking from the TV. "He rubs me wrong."

"He's a nice kid. Give him a chance."

"Humph," Jake grumbled, turning his attention back to the TV.

"Grumpy old man," I muttered, wandering out of the living room and into the office – well it was more like an old linen closet Jake managed to stuff a desk into – and sat down, leafing through the bills neatly stacked on its surface. Shuffling through the pile, I reached the bottom, which was no longer bills, but police documents about old cases. I flicked through the stack which was mostly boring stuff about older folks who passed in their sleep and what not.

Sighing and flooded with boredom, I left the office and headed back into the living room, settling down for a long night of boring TV.

**-000-**

The following week passed in a blur, the next thing I knew it was Friday night, and I was standing behind Callie in the bathroom, a curling iron in hand.

"Mom, that's too tight," Callie whined as I rolled a segment of hair around the hot barrel.

I relaxed the curling iron, saying, "Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Are you excited?"

"A little. Nervous too."

"Why are you nervous?"

Callie shrugged. "I hope me and Bobby win homecoming king and queen. It would be wicked awesome."

"You will. You're gorgeous and he's a football player."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Sure it does. It's the high school hierarchy or something. Football players always get what they want. They have tiny fairy godmothers stuffed in their jock straps or something."

Callie snorted and shook her head, hissing as the curling iron tugged at her hair. I pulled the barrel from her hair and let the curl tumble down her back. "Okay all done." I shut the iron off and set it on the side of the sink to cool then glanced down at my watch. "Ooh, you have to hurry up and finish, I have to drop you off soon."

Callie nodded and rushed out of the bathroom, down the hall towards her room. I was dropping her off at the school where she would meet bobby who was already there. Washing my hands, I dried them on a towel then headed toward Callie's room. I knocked lightly on the door, and then poked my head in. "Need help?"

She nodded, turning around. "Zip me up, Scottie," she said playfully.

I crossed the room and stood behind her, tugging the zipper up. "Okay, all set," I said once the dress was fully zipped. "You now look like you escaped from Mad Men."

"Draper," Callie giggled. "Betty Draper, at your service."

I laughed and said, "Are you done?"

"With what?" she asked innocently.

"The ridiculous pop culture references?"

Callie nodded, slipping her feet into her shoes. "I think I'm ready."

"I think so too. I'll drive you up to school."

My sneakers squeaked on the wood floors as Callie's heels clicked loudly behind me. Jake was waiting at the foot of the stairs with the digital camera. "Smile," he said, snapping pictures in rapid succession.

"Bella stand next to Callie," he ordered once we made it to the bottom step. I moved closer to Callie and wrapped my arm around her waist. "Okay now smile," he ordered.

Beside me, Callie giggled and smiled for Jake. He snapped the picture, the flash blinding me, then handed me the camera. "Can you take one of us?"

I moved out of the way so he could stand beside Callie. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. I held the camera up and snapped the picture. "Let's go," I said, handing the camera back to Jake.

It took me a few minutes longer to get to the school than it normally would have. A fine mist was swirling in the air, and the blue sedan in front of me was creeping down the road at a snail's pace. When I finally pulled up alongside the curb in front of the school, Callie didn't wait for me to come to a complete stop before throwing open the passenger side door and fleeing the confines of the car.

"Have fun!" I called as she briefly turned to wave before disappearing into a door in front of the gymnasium.

I sighed, happily sad and directed the car in the direction of home, stopping at the grocery story for some ice cream along the way. Back at home, Jake was watching a man get hit in the nuts by a wiffle ball bat on America's Funniest Home Videos. I put the ice cream in the freezer and went to join him.

He was laughing hysterically when I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. I stared, unamsued, at the TV screen. "Why do people think this stuff is funny?"

Jake shrugged. "Mostly because it's not happening to them."

"That's dumb. Can we watch something else please?"

"Sure," he said picking up the remote and scrolling through the channels. "Want to watch this?"

I glanced up at the blue menu on the television screen, reading the information listed about the show. "Not really," I replied. "Not really into shows about people being haunted. My life was a little too much like that."

"Okay. How about a movie? We can watch, hmm, let's see." He flicked through the channels, stopping on Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. "A movie about meatballs, a movie about lovely bones, or a movie about, hmm, I have no idea what it's about."

"Not The Lovely Bones," I told him. "That book was terrible. Definitely not the meatball movie, so I guess that leaves the George Clooney movie."

He clicked on the channel and set the remote down on the coffee table. "Did you stop at the store on your way home?"

"Mhmm. I picked up some ice cream. You want a bowl?"

"What kind of ice cream?"

Smiling I said, "I got rocky road, and moose tracks."

"Come on, we'll get ice cream." He picked the remote back up and paused the movie, then grabbed my hand.

In the kitchen, I pulled out two bowls, peering out the window as I did so. A fierce wind had kicked up and was blowing moist leaves around the street, littering the gutters with bits and pieces of wind-swept garbage. The rain, it appeared, had ceased.

I handed Jake a bowl and he handed me the carton of rocky road ice cream. I set it down on the counter and peeled the lid back, dipping the spoon into the partially melted contents.

"What time is Callie supposed to be home?" Jake asked spooning ice cream into his bowl.

"I didn't tell her," I answered. "But she should know that curfew is eleven, regardless."

Jake nodded, replaced the lid on his container of ice cream, and deposited it back in the freezer. I slid mine in behind his and shut the freezer.

"She should, but you know how these kids are. Especially on a dance night..."

"She's not like the other kids, it doesn't hurt that you're the fuzz either."

Jake snorted. "I doubt she cares whether or not I'm the fuzz."

"She cares. She knows she'll be treated just like anybody else if she steps out of line."

"That doesn't mean I want to crack down on her," he said, sitting back down on the couch. I sat down beside him, picking up the remote, unpausing the movie.

"I know that," I said, talking over George Clooney's monologue.

"I know you do," he replied, dropping the subject.

I sat back, watching the movie unfold before me, not really interested in the plot as much as George Clooney. Halfway through the movie Jake turned to me and said, "This is dumb."

I nodded in agreement, glancing at the clock with a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I think I'm going to head to bed."

He clicked off the TV and set the remote back down on the coffee table. "Let's to bed then woman."

I picked up my bowl and shuffled to the kitchen, rinsing it before setting it in the sink. In the other room, I heard Jake click the porch light on and lock the bottom lock on the door. I went to the back door and checked the locks before meeting him at the foot of the stairs.

"Callie has a house key right?"

I nodded as I climbed the stairs. "She does."

"Just checking. The last thing I want is a phone call asking me to let her in."

"It was one time," I laughed. "And she hasn't forgotten her keys since."

"Sure, sure," he muttered, yawning. "I have a whole mess of reports to work on tomorrow."

"You sure do," I replied.

Not wasting any time, I changed and slid into bed, Jake following a few minutes later. I rolled over as he pulled the covers up and laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I know things have been kind of weird the last couple of weeks," he said running his hand down my back. "It's just…well, there's some things going on that I'm trying to protect you from."

"Like what?"

Jake chucked softly. "If I told you then I wouldn't be protecting you from them, now would I?"

"I don't need protecting," I told him.

"And I agree, for the most part. But this, Bella, this is different. You _need_ me to protect you from this. It's for the best, and I'm not saying that to be patronizing. I'm saying it because it's seriously true. Can you just believe that I'm trying to protect you and promise me you'll leave it alone?"

I glanced up at him as he stared down at me with real fear in his eyes. "Okay," I relented. "I'll leave it alone."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied, closing my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Several hours later, a strange noise woke me up. It took me a minute to recognize the sound, it was one I hadn't heard in the middle of the night in such a long time id nearly forgotten what it sounded like. Quietly I slid out of bed and quietly padded to the door, the sound growing louder.

Crying softly in the bathroom at the end of the hall was Callie. I opened the bedroom door and slipped into the hall, making my way to the bathroom door, the crying growing louder.

"Callie?" I said softly, placing my hand on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, her voice wavering. "I'm fi-fi-fine."

Gnawing in my stomach told me to open the door. I reached apprehensively for the knob, my fingers closing around the cool brass fixture and turning it. The door swung open slowly. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," I gasped as the door fully opened.

Huddled in the small space between the toilet and the tub, Callie sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her face beaten and bloody. "Jake!" I called.

Beneath me, the tile floor rose up and quickly dipped back down. Flashes of scenes from the past flickered before my mind's eye. Me, tumbling down the stairs, bruised, beaten and bloody, that same alley, the chilled steel of a heavy gun in my hands, the loud echoing of a multiple gunshots, the wailing of a police siren.

The scene in the bathroom started to gray, the pristine white tiles rose up once more, and my mind swirled as I pitched forward to meet them.

The last thing I remembered was the cool tile against my cheek as the light of my world was instantly snuffed, casting me in darkness.

Act Five, Scene Four, And So It Ends Like It Began by the Ataris


	19. Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies

Chapter Nineteen – "Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies"

The Ties that Bind

Bella

I blinked against the harsh white light blinding me from above. I fought to sit up, struggling against something stiff that was biting into my wrists and ankles. I raised my head up, trying to glance down at my restrained limbs. That's when I noticed something was amiss. My bathroom walls weren't a filthy shade of grey and the light was nowhere near this harsh.

What the hell was going on? Where am I? I glanced around frantically, fear rising up my throat, choking me.

"Ah, you're awake," a soothing voice said from behind me.

I angled my neck to see who was speaking and bit back a scream as Mike Newton smiled down at me. "Wh- what are you," I paused, swallowing my fear. Don't let him see you're afraid, my subconscious whispered. "Why am I strapped down?" I said boldly.

Mike dragged a stool to the head of the bed and sat down. He glanced at me sympathetically and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on the clipboard he had in his hand. "Do you know where you are?" he asked softly.

"No, you fregging monster," I spat at him. My heart raced, my fear chipping away at my precariously crafted façade of calm. I knew this was going to happen, I knew they'd let him out of jail and he'd kidnap and torture me to death.

"Do you know how old you are?"

I stared stupidly at him. "Of course I know how old I am."

"How old are you?" he asked, pen poised over the clipboard.

"I'm thirty five. But you already knew that."

Mike shook his head. "No, Bella, you're not. You're seventeen."

I laughed at him. "No I'm not, I retorted. I'm thirty five, I have a house and bills, and a job and a car and I have an almost seventeen year old daughter and all the grief and aggravation that goes along with it."

"No," Mike said slowly. "You do not. You're a nineteen year old girl."

"No," I replied just as deliberately. "I am not."

Mike sighed and clicked his pen, resting it on the clipboard. "You are. You've been in Western State Hospital for a little over a year. Don't you remember? You were raped by your date to the homecoming dance while his two friends held you down. Do you remember what happened next?"

I turned my face away from him and stared at the wall.

"What happened next Bella?"

I closed my eyes and tried to tune him out. Where was Jake? I wondered. Was he coming to save me from this lunatic?

"Bella, what happened after Riley raped you?" Behind me, Mike stood and I heard him shuffled around the bed. He knelt down in front of me. "You have to stop this – this living in a fantasy land. You need to start facing reality, as cold and harsh as it may be."

I rolled my head away from Mike, away from his words, the soft peppermint of his breath.

He sighed and shuffled around the bed, sitting back down in his chair. "Bella, this has been going on for over a year. It's past time it came to an end."

I wanted to scream at him, tell him I didn't know what he was talking about, and as I went to do so, there was the sound of something metallic sliding and a soft, feminine voice said, "Dr. Newton, Mr. Swan's in your office."

My eyes popped open. Charlie's alive. My heart beat rapidly at the thought of seeing my father again. To see his kind brown eyes, to hear the subtle sarcasm that laced his voice. I wanted to cry from happiness. Charlie was alive!

No he isn't, my subconscious interjected. It's some kind of drug, Mike drugged you, and that chick is just trying to make you think he is. They're screwing with your head. Don't let him into your head!

I couldn't help it; I opened my eyes and said, "I want to see my dad." I swallowed hard as Mike turned around and glanced at me. "Please," I added. "Can I please see him?"

"We'll see," Mike replied. The door buzzed and he exited the room.

Alone in the room, I stared at the ceiling trying to process everything that was happening. I was tied to a bed in a room in a building in the middle of god only knows where. Mike Newton was here, some woman called him doctor, and Charlie was supposedly alive.

_You are way too calm_, a sarcastic voice in my head piped up.

_I am,_ I thought back. _That's not normal right._

_Of course not. You're talking to yourself. That's not normal either. _

I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. Maybe I was dreaming and when I woke up this would all be okay, I would be back at home and everything would be as it should be.

**-000-**

"Are you awake?" the voice of the ever-annoying Dr. Newton screeched in my ear.

I opened one eye and glared at him. "I am now, dickwad. What the fuck do you want?"

"Well hello Isabella," he said snidely.

"Hell-fucking-o," I replied. "What do you want? Here to try and con me into admitting that what I did was wrong, because, guess what doc? I ain't gonna. That motherfucker had it coming, fuck, all three of them did, and they all deserved what happened to them. So save your breath, 'cause the answer is still no. I don't fucking feel bad for what I did to them. And how many fucking times do I have to tell you that my name is Izzie, not Bella, not Isabella. Just Izzie. Fuck, what kind of head shrinker are you, if you can't even remember that."

Newton didn't say anything. He sat in his fugly orange chair and scribbled on his little notebook while I lay tied to this goddamned bed. "Hey, doucheasaurus, you plan on untying me anytime soon?"

Newton glanced up. "No," he said. "You're a threat not only to yourself, but anyone else who even tries to come in here."

"No I'm not," I shot back.

Mike glanced at me, his one eyebrow rose questioningly. "Really? And what about the nurse you punched two weeks ago? You broke her nose Isabella."

"It's Izzie and she looked at me funny. She deser-"

"Let me guess," he said, cutting me off. "She deserved it."

I nodded emphatically. "She did."

"What about the orderly who came the other day to take you to the sunroom. You bit him. He deserved it too?"

"He tried to grab my tits, so yeah, he deserved it."

Newton sighed. "He didn't try to grab your chest. We've been over this a million times. No one here is out to get you, or hurt you."

"What the fuck ever."

"Okay, let's talk about the night of the dance," mike said, quickly changing the conversation.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied.

"Yes you do. The night of the homecoming dance last October. Tell me about what happened."

"I already told you, asswipe, that nothing happened."

"So then tell me this," Mike said a smug smile of his face. "If nothing happened the night of the homecoming dance, why did you shoot and kill Riley Biers, Eric Yorkie, and Tyler Crowley?"

I closed my eyes, the feeling of being dragged under by a huge wave washed over me. I fought to stay awake, to stay focused, but the drag was too much. It pulled me down into the blackness and held me there.

**-000-**

"I shot Riley, Eric, and Tyler."

Newton looked up. I hated this guy. I hated his face, the smooth, baby like quality of it; I hated the lock of blond hair that hung limply across his forehead. However, he was better than the other doctor. I really hated him and I can't tell you how glad I was when he left. I'd like to think I had something to do with that.

He had to go. I was the glue that held the three of us, Bella, Izzie and I together. Doctor Leprechaun was always trying to get Bella to remember what happened, to talk about what I did to those three assholes. It was too huge of a risk; I couldn't have her remember, not yet. Hell, not ever.

Then this chucklehead comes along and he starts to break through Bella's shell so I had to chase him away, I had to make her fear him, I had to make her find a way to block him out, send him away so he couldn't bother her anymore either.

"Paul," Newton called, interrupting my reverie.

I snapped my eyes in his direction and glared at him. "You need to go away," I told him. "Neither of them need to remember, they're both completely happy trapped in their own little worlds. Bella is happy, with Callie and Jake, and Izzie, well, she's happy pretending to be oblivious."

"And you," Newton questioned. "What about you?"

I shrugged as best I could shackled to the bed. "I'm fine. It's my job to protect them. I'll do that at any cost."

"Like the cost of three lives lost?"

"Cost?" I snorted. "Please. The three of them deserved to be killed."

"Why?"

"Because they raped Izzie. And because they would have gotten away with it. They had to be punished and I made sure it was taken care of. I told you. I'm here to protect them."

"So it's just you, Izzie and Bella?"

"For the most part. Jake and Callie are here too, but it's just us three."

"So, you're what exactly? The gatekeeper?"

"Gate keeper, peace keeper, secret keeper. Just the keeper in general."

"So, it would be bad to tell the others about you?"

I shrugged. "You could try, but look at what happened when you tried to get to Bella. She figured out a way to block you. She blocked you for the better part of the year didn't she?"

Mike nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "How did you get her to do that?"

"I pretended like I wanted to hurt her. After you started to get through in the first place, I found a way to twist it, make it darker. She met me, in a bookstore – or so she thinks – and we discussed _The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud_-"

"When was this?"

"Right after I got rid of the other shrink."

"You know you didn't get rid of him right? His wife fell ill and he cut back his hours to spend time with her."

I shrugged. "Either way. Bella saw him as her husband who divorced her and practically forced her to move back to her childhood home with her daughter."

"How old is her daughter?"

"She's seventeen now. Somehow, you managed to get through to her. She fantasized that her daughter was raped by her date to the homecoming dance. The night she found her, she woke up here, to you."

"Where is she now?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. She's the most child-like. In a way, the most fragile. Is it weird that I know the others exist? They don't really know about me. Bella thinks I'm some guy she met in a bookstore. Isabella, well, you know her. She denies just about everything unless it's something she's made up for herself."

"What about you? What made you come out?"

"The rape. I think I was always in the back of Isabella's mind, that tough part of her that didn't take any bullshit. I mean, she's tough, but she kind of let people walk on her a bit. Then riley raped her at the dance, and here I am, trapped in the back of her mind as him and those other two assholes defiled her and something snapped. After that, I guess it was enough for me to break free. The rest, well I guess, is history."

"Tell me about the rape," Mike stated.

"It was homecoming. Riley and Izzie had only been dating for a few weeks, a month at most. She loved the idea of him; Charlie didn't like him, he said the kid was too polite. That night at the dance, they left the gym to, and I quote, "walk under the stars so that they could marvel at her, Izzie's, beauty."

"She fell for that bullshit hook, line and sinker. So they headed out to the now empty football field and walked. He had her sit down on the fifty-yard line with him. They looked up at the stars and he pointed out different constellations while she secretly wished they'd get to second base that night. She secretly considered going all the way with him.

"Well, they started making out, he was rough, and it scared her. She asked him to stop, but he didn't. She pushed him off of her and managed to get halfway back to the school, screaming for help. From the side door of the gym, out walk Tyler and Eric, Riley's friends. They grab her and pretty much drag her to him. They throw her to the ground and Riley rips her underclothes off and rapes her."

I paused, remembering with stunning clarity the anger that coursed through me as he came inside Izzie. I saw red and one word and one word only flashed through my mind: kill.

"After he finished, he left her lying in the dirt and went off to do god only knows what. I made Izzie get herself home, she walked the entire way, and when she got home, she sat in the tub for hours just crying. That night when she fell asleep, I woke up the next morning. I knew Charlie kept guns in the house and when he left for work I got one, found the bullets for it, and waited for nightfall."

"Then what?" Mike asked, frantically scribbling in his notebook.

"I found out where they hung out and I killed them one at a time."

"Where did they hang out?" he asked.

"There is this strip of old abandoned warehouses along the harbor front, they used to hang out in one of the warehouses, they had a little set up where they'd go and get drunk, get high and occasionally screw some skank from school. I found them there and picked them off one at a time."

"When you say picked off, what do you mean?"

"I shot each of them. I shot Tyler twice in the chest. Eric took a bullet to the head."

"And Riley?"

"I shot his dick off, and then I shot him in the chest and tossed his body in the river."

Mike nodded, his pen scratching the page rapidly. "How'd you get caught?"

"At the time Izzie was stronger than me. She woke up and freaked out when she saw all the blood on our hands and the gun. I guess someone heard the gunshots and called the cops. They found her there and arrested. The next time I woke up, we were here."

"They sent Izzie here because she had the murder weapon, the victim's blood on her skin and clothes, but had no recollection of how she got to Port Angeles or what happened."

"I know," I said. "Trust me, I know. She's angry, so she lashes out at you guys. Bella's scared so she creates this perfect little world where no one can touch her and me…"

"Yes, what about you?"

"I'm here holding it all together."

"It's not healthy," Mike said. "Eventually the façade is going to crumble and all of you are going to have to face the truth."

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Or maybe not. But until then, I'm going to protect them. I'm going to let them have their fantasies."

"The truth always comes out," Mike said. "Sooner or later it always comes out."

**-000-**

So there you have...the twist. tell me what your thinking, love to hear from you!

Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies by the Ataris


	20. The End

Chapter Twenty – "The End"

The Ties that Bind

Dr. Mike Newton

A year ago, Isabella Swan, known to her friends as Izzie, daughter of the chief of police, snapped. Raped by her boyfriend, she turned to violence and sought refuge from her pain within the confines of her own mind.

She created two new personalities, Paul, her protector, the actual killer in Izzie's mind, and Bella, a shy woman who supposedly fled to San Francisco after the rape where she found out she was pregnant with Riley's child, married another married whom she subsequently divorced, and moved back to her hometown of Forks. Once back in Forks, Bella fell in love with Jake, the chief of police. In her mind, she was happy, her life – while traumatizing – was good. She was relatively happy and in love.

It has been six months since I've heard from Bella. Paul says that she has found a way to block me out. He believes that she believes I was sent back to jail, as that is the way she blocked me the first time.

Izzie remains in an angry, teenage state of mind. She is still hostile and violent; she still refuses to talk about what happened the night of the homecoming dance.

Paul remains ever vigilant. Most of my sessions these last few months have been with him. He says that it is easier for everyone if he remains in control at all times. Admittedly, sometimes he slips and Izzie will wake up screaming at the top of her lungs for us to free her from the ties that bind her. However, for our safety as well as hers, I have advised the nurses and orderlies not to free her. It is a risk that is too great.

Chief Swan, consumed with grief and guilt, has since retired from the force in Forks and relocated to Seattle to be closer to Izzie. The only time we have allowed him to visit his daughter is when she is heavily medicated, and therefore unresponsive. It saddens me that the only way this man can see his child is when she is heavily medicated; however, it is for his own safety.

When he came up a week ago, he told me that the state of Washington found Izzie guilty of the murders, and sentenced her to life in a state run mental health facility. She will be seventy years old when her sentence is served.

For the rest of her life, Izzie will float through various stages, teenager, middle-aged mom, angry, violent man. She will run the gamut of these personalities until either her mind snaps or one of them die. No one wanted to see it come to that, all of her doctors wanted to see her accept help and travel down the path of healing. Whether or not she chose to get better was ultimately Izzie's decision.

She would have to decide, light or dark, life or death, and it was a choice that no one but Izzie could make.

-000-

And so there it is...hope you enjoyed the story and thank you all so much for reading and reviewing.

The End by Kings of Leon


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